


And the Scene Slips Away (To the Evenness I Fake)

by Kirazalea



Category: Batman (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, As One Does, Bad Parents Jack and Janet Drake, Bruce Wayne is a Bad Parent, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Charity Auctions, Class Differences, Class Issues, Comfort Food, Coming Out, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Interviews, Journalism, Language, Latino Jason Todd, M/M, News Media, Objectification, Past Rape/Non-con, Press and Tabloids, Protective Jason Todd, Protective Siblings, Racism, Romani Dick Grayson, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Sacrifice, Sibling Love, Slut Shaming, Victim Blaming, because apparently there's no tag for galas, but they're here too, he's gotten better, it's from jason's point of view what were you expecting lmao, me referencing an odd amalgamation of canon with wild abandon while completely ignoring the rest, or at least he was when he was like 20, still probably not the best but he's really trying, wally linda kate steph tam and clark all have pretty small appearances so i won't tag them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:54:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 36,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27520342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirazalea/pseuds/Kirazalea
Summary: One mistake is all it took to force Jason back into the wonderful world of the Wayne family. Now publicly and legally alive once more, he's forced to spend the next two weeks of his life stuck in the Manor with the whole family.This leads to several strengthened relationships and the realization that maybe he's missed a few things over the years.Things that he's now determined to get to the bottom of.Also known as the "Tim comes out to his family, the public finds out Jason Todd is actually alive, Jason finds out about Mirage and Tarantula, and they all are confronted with the fact that dealing with public relations as millionaire superheroes is actually The Worst (though not necessarily in that order)" Frankenstein of a fic that nobody asked for but I'm giving you anyways
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Jason Todd, Cassandra Cain & Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Duke Thomas & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Catalina Flores/Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Duke Thomas & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Miriam Delgado/Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent
Comments: 118
Kudos: 726





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> if you see me posting this instead of working on my incomplete avatar fic, no u don't  
> but in all honesty, this would _not_ leave me alone until i'd written it, so here we are a couple weeks later. i'm putting off so many semester projects for this...
> 
> title from genghis khan by miike snow

“No.”

“Jason-” Bruce tried, teetering between assertive and weary.

“I said _no,”_ Jason repeated firmly, glaring at the emotionless mask of a face in front of him. The straining leather of his jacket filled the otherwise silent cave as his tightly crossed arms tensed. The others stood to the side, all maskless and motionless as they looked between the two of them like a tennis match. 

Jason was this close to grabbing the nearest projectile and throwing it at them. “I’ll play nice with you and the birds, but I’m not dealing with the whole fucking circus again. No offense,” he shot in Dick’s general direction after a second of silence and a slight tightening in the skin around Bruce’s eyes. 

From the look on Dick’s face and the stiffness in his stance, the lackluster apology had sounded about as sincere as he’d meant it to be.

He knew he should’ve said no to letting himself be drawn back into this insane fucking family, but, like an idiot, he’d thought that he could maintain his distance while he helped Tim get back on his feet after the whole Ra’s ordeal. He would never admit it, least of all to Tim, but he felt bad about all the shit he’d put the younger through over the years, especially when he’d first gotten back, and felt he owed it to the kid to help where he could. If that included showing up at his apartment every now and then to make sure he was practicing basic self-care instead of hiding away in neverending cases, then so be it.

He shouldn’t have gotten so comfortable. He’d been stopping by Tim’s place for months; it had even gotten to the point where Tim was actually stocking up on groceries and fresh produce for Jason to cook with, instead of the bare minimum nutrients he needed to survive a highly active lifestyle. Jason found he genuinely liked spending time with the other former Robin and relaxed around him, Tim offering him the same courtesy when he was sure that Jason wasn’t going to suddenly pull a gun on him again.

He’d even spent a little time around Duke and Damian (and Cass, when she was there) whenever he stopped by the Manor to see Alfred, he managed to be almost entirely civil with Bruce, and he’d do patrols with Dick more often than not when business brought him to Bludhaven.

He’d been so careful those first few months, making damn sure he wasn’t spotted near the Manor or any of their apartments, either as the Red Hood or Jason. At first, he just didn’t want any of the others to think he was up for socializing with them just because he could spend more than five minutes around Tim without feeling homicidal, and later he hadn’t wanted anyone with a grudge against him to get any ideas about who else they could target.

But he’d gotten comfortable, spending so much time around them. 

He’d gotten complacent. 

Sloppy.

And that had cost him.

“You may not have a choice,” Bruce replied darkly, his face tightening further. Jason couldn’t blame him. When he’d seen his face plastered all over the news channels and online articles, he’d had a much worse reaction.

_Tall, Dark, and Taken: Is Timothy Drake-Wayne Hiding a Special Someone?_

_Wayne Enterprises Owner Seeing Another Man?_

_Mystery Man Caught Exiting Timothy Drake-Wayne’s Apartment Window_

He didn’t know how a reporter had managed to snatch a picture of him leaving Tim’s window after a late patrol lead to him crashing on his couch instead of making the trek across town, but he could only be thankful that he’d slid down the nearby fire escape in the daylight instead of taking to the rooftops. Otherwise he had the feeling those headlines might’ve gone in a different, vigilante-themed, direction.

Jason sighed through his nose and counted to five before answering, his voice still tight. “Look. As much as I like the idea of being Replacement’s secret lover, I like the idea of being the prodigal son even less.”

“We need to do damage control, Jason,” Tim cut in quietly, body tense. “Someone’s going to mess up at some point if we don’t come clean. One of us will call you our brother or we’ll reference something you shouldn’t have been able to know, or someone who’s looking in the right place at the right time will notice how much you look like Bruce Wayne’s supposedly deceased son, and we’ll be in even deeper than we are now for lying about it.”

Jason bit back the answer that he could just skip town and drop all communication with them, let the whole thing blow over and be branded as Tim’s ex who got scared off by a bit of fame. He had the feeling he wouldn’t be able to get away with cutting all the ties he’d somehow mended again.

And even if it was marginally preferable to the limelight that came with the Wayne family name, the thought of being romantically connected to his brother left a distinctly sour taste in his mouth.

Especially when said brother was only _just_ legal.

“I know you hate dealing with reporters, but we’re a little limited on options here,” Dick said, just as quiet as Tim had been. His voice was softer, though. Unlike the rest of the batbrats, Dick had actually been there to see firsthand Jason’s initial reaction to fame and fortune. 

Dick was a natural performer, someone who seemed to thrive off of the attention, and he’d left shoes to fill and a pampered and expectant audience to entertain. The rich and powerful of Gotham hadn’t been too charmed by the rough street trash Bruce had adopted after so many years of dealing with a _dazzling little gentleman_ like Richard. 

He would say he was lucky that he never got sued for his reactions to some of the more invasive assholes, but he knew that it was Bruce’s bank account, not luck, that had smoothed over most of those incidents.

He and Dick had talked about it once, after a rare patrol together ended with ice cream on the rooftops of Gotham’s quieter districts. Jason had admitted that they reminded him too much of the men who hounded street kids until they gave in to whatever they wanted, just to get them to go away. Jason had more than one friend that had gone that route and disappeared; or worse, appeared weeks later as a defiled corpse that the cops couldn’t give less of a shit about. 

The hands and eyes of the rich and pampered felt too much like the pimps and dealers that made their living preying on kids. The smiles of the reporters bore too strong a resemblance to the more bloodthirsty gang members that were looking for a good time in the form of a street rat no one would miss; whether that good time came in a more sadistic or sexual package made no difference. 

The end result was always the same.

“Bruce makes sure they don’t bother me too much… Maybe we can do that for you too?” Duke offered hesitantly, his eyes moving between Jason and Bruce, as if asking for permission. 

Jason appreciated the gesture, but he knew it wouldn’t work. Bruce was able to keep most of the vultures away because Duke was still a minor. Gotham’s residents knew exactly how hard the hammer came down on anyone who harassed the kids living in Bruce’s house. Even Jason had benefited from that the first time around. After the first few weeks, most of the reporters had backed off out of fear, only a few exceptionally brave, stupid, or cunning ones daring to come near. Jason had still been forced to put up with the upper class, and it was infuriating, but it was better than adding the press into the mix.

He wouldn’t be able to claim that protection anymore. His six foot frame was far more attuned to intimidation than hiding under daddy’s cape (or suit jacket, as the case may have been).

Bruce’s response was to further narrow his eyes and return his gaze to Jason, which Duke correctly assumed was the man’s way of letting him know that plan wouldn’t work without him actually saying it. Bruce was a very efficient communicator once you figured out what fucking language he was speaking, and it seemed Duke was experienced enough to have cracked at least part of the code.

As much as Jason didn’t want to admit it, he knew they were right. He hadn’t been careful enough. He’d messed up and now he had to pay up. God knew the last thing he wanted was to be thrust back into the world of Jason Todd-Wayne, Bruce Wayne’s first adopted son, but he truly didn’t have a choice anymore.

He’d dug himself into a hole once again and it was time to lay in it. He tried to tell himself that at least this time he was still breathing and that there was no literal hole in his near future, but he couldn’t quite convince himself that this was a better fate.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a lot easier to be declared legally alive again than Jason had anticipated. As with most things, he supposed he should’ve seen it coming since Bruce had an ridiculous amount of money at his disposal to ease things along, but he’d read up on cases of being mistakenly declared dead a few years back in the middle of a morbid spiral. Most people either had to fight for years to reverse the ruling or it just never happened. Jason had expected the whole thing to take at least a week, but the beauty of Gotham was that, thoroughly corrupt as it was, it would bend over backwards to help you if you threw enough money at it.

Jason Peter Todd-Wayne was alive once more, barely two days after his unexpected debut in the news cycle.

Bruce and Tim spun the courts a story of kidnapping, severe injuries, and amnesia, accounting for why Jason hadn’t come forward before now. A DNA test, a couple of sped-through hearings, with money greasing the wheels of justice along, and Jason had a second certificate of life at the tender young age of 21. 

Now all that was left was a live interview and press release, explaining to the public what the hell was going on with the Waynes.

Jason was pretty sure that the only person who  _ maybe  _ beat him on the “not wanting to be here” scale was Damian, who was glaring out the window of the car. He was supposed to spend this weekend on the Kent farm with Jon, but Jason’s accidental reveal had demolished any hope of those plans for the next month at least. With so many eyes on them, they couldn’t afford to do anything that could possibly lead back to their identities, which meant that Tim and Damian wouldn’t be spending time with their Supers until things calmed down again.

He was sure that Damian was past the stage in his life where he might have actually attempted to kill or maim him, but Jason was still going to be watching his back for the next few weeks during his forced stay at the Manor.

As the car rolled to a smooth stop, all conversation quietly ended. The flashing lights of professional cameras could be seen, even through the tinted windows. Bruce took a measured breath in, settling into a lighter presence. Jason saw Alfred glance back at them through the rearview mirror and gave the older man a tight smile in response before wiping his face of any strong emotions and letting all of his apprehension come to the surface. He’d have to play the part of being intimidated by and uneasy with the attention, so that he could reasonably avoid them in the future. If he came on too strong like he had as a child, he’d gain the wrong kind of reputation, one they could no longer afford, no matter how much Jason still wanted to sucker punch the whole group outside.

He’d pitched that as an option, expecting the way Bruce shot it down immediately. They couldn’t let people know just how well they could hold their own in a fight. It was harder to connect the dots between the Waynes and the Bats if one group wasn’t known for how much of a punch their fist could pack. It was the same reason they could never fight back when they were kidnapped as kids. Jason knew that to fight back like he wanted to now would only throw all of that effort in their faces and disrespect the sacrifices and shit everyone had been forced to sit through in order to keep the secret, but fuck if it didn’t sound appealing.

So. Timid and overwhelmed it was.

He’d never been particularly jealous of Damian before, but the kid had come onto the scene violent and abrasive before anyone had had a chance to correct him. He was allowed a little more leeway in that area now since enough people already expected it of him, and damn if Jason wouldn’t have killed to have that too.

The car door opened, the air suddenly filled with all the shouts that had been muffled before. Jason was glad that he didn’t have to hide his wince and unease at the abrupt volume increase. Bruce got out first, Jason following. He hesitated and glanced around with frantic eyes before returning his gaze to Bruce, who visibly softened. He extended a hand to Jason, pulling him the rest of the way out of the car and resting his hand gently against the back of Jason’s neck in a show of support.

It was all for the crowd's benefit, of course, so Jason did his duty and smiled hesitantly, leaning into the solid body next to him. His relationship with Bruce had definitely improved, over the last few months especially, so he wasn’t nearly as bothered as he felt he should be by the fact that doing so genuinely made him relax. 

Whether it was the idea that Bruce was openly trying to be a supportive father, even if it was absurdly played up for the cameras, or the fact that he just felt safer with something at his side and covering part of his back, he wasn’t going to think too much about it.

As the two of them strode forward, the noise level ratcheted up again and Jason didn’t have to fake the way he tensed. Bruce’s hand, which had migrated to his shoulder, became a reassuring weight as he bore down carefully, playing it up once more for the cameras as his face became a mask of comfort and understanding, while also reassuring Jason that nothing was going to happen.

In their line of work, sudden noise meant danger and imminent death.

Jason had been out of the spotlight for so long and it was just now hitting him fully how much he was going to have to get used to again.

The gathered crowd of reporters suddenly became a cacophony of shouted questions and Jason twisted his head around a little to see that Tim and Dick had stepped out of the car last, Alfred closing the door behind them. Damian, Cass, and Duke were already closing the distance behind them since they’d gotten out first, and Jason had tracked their appearances with the corresponding volume upticks, but that had been nothing compared to the absolute roar that had risen up for Dick and Tim. 

Dick smiled brightly for them, though it was a toned down version of his usual press smile since Jason’s death and sudden reappearance was supposed to be on his mind. Tim shared the restrained, but appropriately confident, smile that Gotham had become so used to. 

Jason still thought that everything about that looked wrong on the teenager.

Dick had always been popular with the press, despite that fact that he’d avoided them almost completely over that last few years. Tim had been in the tabloids and news lately, handling the business and his supposed injury at the hands of Scarab. It made sense that there would be a bigger response at their appearances.

Jason forced himself to relax again, smiling back thankfully at Bruce for the silent reminder as he heard a couple of people murmur softly about how sweet it was. 

They were riding a thin line between the caution and reflexes he’d gained keeping himself alive as a drug lord and vigilante, and the reasonable bleedover that would be allowed for a nervous kid with partial amnesia who had been suddenly thrust into a world of glittering lights.

Jason fought to keep any irritation he felt firmly off his face as they finally entered the building, knowing that just ahead of him was the room filled with even more reporters where they’d make their address.

The blissful quiet of the Wayne Enterprises lobby was a balm to Jason’s ears and soul though, even if he could still hear the crowd outside. He and Bruce waited further in for the others to catch up, and once they were all inside, the doors shut, blocking out the noise. The muffled sound reminded Jason weirdly of a tomb, despite the sunlight that filled the room. 

Bruce gave Jason’s neck another slight squeeze before letting it drop to his side. They all walked forward again, moving as a single unit, and Jason tried not to focus on the fact that that had been the longest he’d touched or been touched by Bruce in a long time.

The clicks of the cameras started as soon as they entered the room and stepped onto the stage, but thankfully no one was screaming in here. As they all moved to their seats, Jason could see a few of the live anchors talking to their cameras at the back of the room. He did his best to appear apprehensive and visibly breathed in as if calming himself while he took his seat.

Dick, now sat to his left, put a hand on his shoulder and smiled encouragingly. It took most of Jason’s considerable training not to laugh, both at how fake they both knew all of this was (Jason had stared down any number of murderers and rapists and felt nothing but rage; he didn’t need comfort when faced with something as mundane as a few overweight journalists, and they all knew it) as well as the fact that Bruce had pulled the exact same move not even two minutes ago.

Dick was far more like Bruce than he wanted to admit (though Jason honestly couldn’t have said which of them had influenced the other in this particular regard), but he didn’t want to get a fist to the face, especially right now, so he kept his thoughts to himself and smiled back. 

A hush fell over the crowd as Bruce stood up, walking toward the podium. 

“I knew there were betting pools on how long it would be before I took in another kid, but I don’t think anyone would’ve guessed at this one,” he began abashedly.

There was a string of laughter at the self-deprecating tone Bruce spoke in, the utter awe and wonder in his face as he turned back to look at Jason with a smile.

Jason smiled back nervously. He had always hated when Bruce became Brucie, but he was more comfortable being on the receiving end of Brucie the doting, if dull, father than he had been as a teen with Brucie the playboy extraordinaire. 

If nothing else, having five, and now officially six, kids had given Bruce the opportunity to mostly drop that aspect of his public persona.

“I never would have thought that I would get another chance to hold my son, to see him staring back at me” Bruce continued reverently, still looking toward Jason rather than the audience and sounding a little choked up, “but I’ve never been so glad to be wrong.”

Oh God, were those  _ tears  _ in his eyes?

Bruce sniffed exactly once, visibly composing himself and wiping at his eyes as he finally looked at the crowd once more.

_ Laying it on a little thick, don’t you think, Old Man? _

“Six years ago, Jason was kidnapped. We…” Bruce faded out for a moment, looking down briefly. “I thought I’d lost him. As most of you know during an overseas business trip, Jason heard rumors that his birth mother was in the area, a trap that had been laid for him, and he left to try and find her. I was unable to meet his kidnapper’s demands, and…” Bruce cut himself off again, but it sounded less like an act this time. 

Dick’s hand found his, on top of his knee. He squeezed once and Jason was shocked to see that Dick was also looking affected by this. Dick was a born performer, but Jason liked to think that he was decent enough at seeing behind that mask, whatever form it may take. Dick looked genuinely upset and almost guilty, but Jason couldn’t be entirely sure that it  _ wasn’t _ an act. On the chance that it wasn’t, and knowing that the cameras were watching either way, Jason squeezed back, leaning against Dick’s shoulder to steady him.

_ I’m here, Dickhead. You know I’m here. _

Bruce seemed to rally himself once more and cleared his throat. “Local law enforcement sent back a body, but it was… it was unrecognizable. However, testing showed that it  _ was  _ Jason. I looked into it extensively, I needed to be sure, I needed closure, but… I found nothing.” Bruce’s head turned slightly in Jason’s direction, though he didn’t actually turn. “I was wrong,” he stated softly. “From what Jason is able to remember, he managed to escape his captors, but they’d done quite a number on him. He vaguely remembers being taken to a hospital, but he’d been subjected to enough head trauma that he had developed retrograde amnesia. He was unable to remember who he was or what had happened to him. He’s still unable to remember much of what happened over the next few years as he healed, but whoever was taking care of him must have recognized him somehow, and once he was healed enough, they booked a flight back to the U.S. for him.”

Bruce had allowed his gaze to travel slowly over the crowd as he spoke, but here, he looked directly into one of the cameras at the back. “Because of Jason’s memory issues, we may never know who this individual, or perhaps individuals, were, but if they’re watching…” Bruce swallowed thickly. “Thank you. For bringing my son back to me.”

Jason knew that Bruce was speaking directly to Talia. Bruce knew exactly what had happened and who was to blame, and Jason could imagine how hard it must have been for Bruce to thank her, knowing the training she put Jason through after reviving him. The deaths she’d encouraged him to reap. But Jason could also tell that Bruce wasn’t lying. He never thought he’d live to see the day where Bruce thanked Talia for  _ anything, _ but this was a day of surprises for more than just the journalists apparently.

Bruce cleared his throat again. “Jason’s memories of the last two years are more clear. His flight had taken him to Gotham, and he began to work here. He’s lived a fairly nondescript life ever since. I’m not sure I believe in a higher power, or fate, but it was something beyond luck that brought Tim to the construction company Jason was working for a month ago. He recognized Jason and approached him. By that point, some of Jason’s memories had begun to return to him, and even if he didn’t recognize Tim as our, at the time, neighbor, he knew there was something familiar about him. They began to meet more often, trying to figure it out together. Over the past month, with Tim’s help, Jason began to remember more about his life. He’s still missing things, things that may never come back, or they may just take time, but he’s definitely our Jason.”

Bruce finished his speech, a neat bow of lies over top the shitty story of his life, and not a single word of it true. It had taken them most of the past two days to come up with it, and to plant all the false trails necessary for when people inevitably looked into things. With the money and reach of both Bruce Wayne and Batman backing their efforts, though, it was a story that no one would ever be able to disprove with any certainty or evidence, no matter how little they trusted it. It was just vague enough that should anything particularly damning come up, they would have room to maneuver their way out of it, but detailed enough that a majority of people would feel satisfied.

They’d officially made it through the PR explanation and with a quick glance around the room, Jason could see that most of them had eaten it up. 

Now was the difficult part. The questioning.

They could prepare all they wanted (and they had), but they could never know for sure what would come up until it was asked. 

After a signal to the crowd, a woman with dark hair stood up from the middle of the throng, her hand raised. Bruce nodded to her. “If Timothy knew for over a month, why did he not mention it to anyone? Not even to you or Richard, who actually knew and lived with Jason before his kidnapping and could have been more successful in determining whether or not Jason was sincere?”

They couldn’t be sure of every question that would be asked, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t get a headstart and lead the conversation how they wanted. Someone might think that the whole thing was a little too neat, a little too perfect, and bring up something they’d somehow managed to miss, and they’d have only seconds to work out a suitable lie.

Or, they could nip parts of that in the bud and answer some of the more damning questions from the get go.

It paid to be friends with Lois Lane.

Bruce’s eyes widened a bit at the bluntness of the question, even though he’d known exactly what she would ask before she even opened her mouth. Tim stood up smoothly, walking over and placing a hand on Bruce’s upper back. “It might be better if I take this one?” he offered gently. Bruce nodded his acknowledgment, moving back as Tim stepped up, all eyes on him.

Tim smiled at Bruce before turning back to the crowd, looking Lois dead in the eye. “I wanted to be sure that it really was Jason,” he answered openly. “Bruce and Dick were incredibly hurt by his death. It was something they never truly got over. If Jason had turned out to be just some guy that was hoping to make a quick profit by pretending to be a millionaire’s long lost son, I didn’t want to bring up that pain for them again. Until I was sure that Jason was who I thought he was, I didn’t want to involve anyone else in the family. And for the record,” he added, smiling a little dryly, “we were planning on ways to break the news that wouldn’t end in fainting or hospital visits when the photograph that started this all was taken. That’s part of why the process of reversing Jason’s death was so fast. I’d been looking into it already.”

That was both a bold faced lie and the absolute truth of what Tim would have done had the situation been real, Jason knew. He’d developed a reputation of being shrewd and thorough in the business world, something he was well aware of and often used to his advantage, just as he was doing now.

Where Bruce took the fall for the unexplainable by being an idiot, Tim bore the brunt of the rest with calm logistics and a no nonsense approach to the press. 

Lois had a shrewd look in her eye, the one she was famous for, but she inclined her head respectfully and sat back down. With that, the real mess started as hands shot up into the air.

Tim and Bruce handled them easily, answering questions from what their initial reaction had been  _ (it was a shock to all of us, but in a good way) _ to their plans moving forward  _ (everyone has taken time off work to come back home for a while as we adjust to this and help Jason get comfortable with the changes in his life). _

Eventually though, they had to address the elephant,  _ or rather the poisonous snake, _ Jason thought, in the room.

Vicki Vale’s hand was raised patiently in the air.

Tim acknowledged her and she stood.

“How have your younger kids handled the arrival of someone who’s virtually a stranger to them, Mr. Wayne?” Jason could see that her hands were poised to record every detail of the answer.

“They were understandably conflicted when the news came out,” Bruce replied, placing a light hand on Tim’s shoulder. “They’ve heard stories of Jason from Dick, Tim, and I over the years, and of course they’ve seen his pictures, but there  _ is  _ a difference between that and the real thing. Over the past two days, we’ve all spent more time together, and they’re a lot more comfortable with everything now than they were before, and I will absolutely do my best to ensure that that stays the same moving forward.”

“You say that Mr. Todd will be living with you,” someone else cut in, and as she stood, Jason could see that that someone was Cat Grant. “And that you’re sure he is who he claims to be, but are you truly prepared to risk your other children’s lives should this turn out to be an elaborate hoax?” She sounded suitably worried and concerned, with the unspoken  _ This is Gotham, after all _ coloring her statement, but Jason knew that she wasn’t nearly as concerned for their wellbeing as she sounded.

Bruce very carefully did not react, but Jason could practically hear the grinding of his teeth. “I care deeply about  _ all  _ of my children,” Bruce answered plainly. “I would never willingly or knowingly endanger them.”

“Of course not,” Cat rushed to add, as if she hadn’t implied exactly that. “But people will do horrible things for money, and you can never be sure. What if, despite all of your considerable efforts to ensure the veracity of the situation, this does end up causing danger for your family in some way?”

“And what about the possible emotional damage this could cause your family?” Vicki interjected smoothly. Jason hadn’t expected the tag team between the two of them, and he wasn’t sure if it was planned or if both were just taking advantage of the situation, but either way it was starting to give him a headache. “What if too much has changed for Jason over the past six years, and he’s not able to be the son you remember? You’ve brought him fully into your family, but what if it doesn’t work out? Are you willing to let your son go, or to deal with other complications in that area should they arise?”

Jason carefully hid the way his fist clenched at his side. He hated this, he hated it  _ so much. _ He wanted to march up there and chew them both out, as well as any other asshole that wanted to depict him as a gold digging liar, but that would just hurt their case. Jason couldn’t be defensive about it, otherwise it would just fuel the fire. 

That didn’t make it any easier to bite his tongue. 

He’d been trying  _ so damn hard _ the past few months. He’d made amends with his family, done his best to keep a tight hold of his temper and show that he did genuinely care about them all. And most of them had seen that, allowed him to slowly feel like part of the family again.

But some nights he’d wake up to the sound of Tim’s screams filling his head as the crowbar came down and down and  _ down _ onto his flesh. He’d wake up with the image of Dick’s heartbroken face seared into his eyes, Duke’s flinch the first time he’d yelled at him, Damian’s snarling rage.

Bruce’s exhorting pleas and stoney condemnation.

He’d hurt them so many times in so many ways. He hated that both reporters had a point. 

Not even Jason could be sure that he wouldn’t hurt them all again.

“Regardless of what’s changed for Jason,” Bruce said firmly, a power that he almost never let  _ Brucie Wayne _ hold in his voice, “he is still my son, just as much as the rest of my children are mine. I will  _ never _ turn my back on him again. I made that mistake already, and it’s one I’ve carried with me ever since, especially since finding out the truth of what happened to him. Whatever the future brings, I will be there for  _ all  _ of my family. If what Jason or any of the others need is space, I will do my best to give it to them. If they need time, I will give them all that I have.”

Bruce had been staring directly at Vicki, but now his gaze turned to Cat, who tensed up just a little. “And should any danger arise for  _ any _ of my family, I will do everything I can to ensure that we make it through safely. They are, and have always been, my first priority. That being said, there is not a doubt in my mind that Jason is telling the truth, that he truly has come back to us, with no ulterior motive.” The intensity seeped out of his voice like it had never been there at all, and Bruce turned to look at him again. “When Tim told us, I didn’t want to get my hopes up in case he was wrong. But he’s not. Not a day has gone by these past six years that I haven’t thought of my son. I know this is him.”

There was something that Jason couldn’t quite read in his expression, but Bruce turned away again before Jason could decipher it. “Additionally, unknown to the public, and to most of my children, this isn’t the first time someone has claimed to be Jason.”

A ripple of murmurs moved through the crowd and even Jason felt a small frown on his face before he caught it and swapped it out for confusion instead.

Bruce’s hand on Tim’s shoulder squeezed tight and guided him a step closer. “Tim was right in assuming that it would hurt if Jason had turned out to be nothing but a fraud, but he had no way of knowing that I’ve dealt with this exact situation before. Someone would approach me, claiming to be my son. Some of them, I knew just from looking that they weren’t telling the truth, and others I had to ask for help in looking into the case to be sure, but each time, no matter how carefully the ruse had been planned out, something was found that discredited them. There was no trace of that this time, none at all. And Jason does have a few memories that not even Dick would have been able to recall; that no one besides my son would have been able to tell me, no matter how much research they’d done.”

Jason had no clue whether or not Bruce was telling the truth. With a quick glance at his siblings around him, he could tell that they didn’t know either.

It would make sense, if it was real. Bruce had known for years now that Jason was alive, so someone coming up and claiming to be him would be laughable to anyone in the know. But it bothered Jason that he couldn’t be sure, that he had no evidence to work off of.

“I never made it public knowledge because these incidents were isolated enough and I didn’t want to encourage anyone who wasn’t already considering it. I also hated to see my son’s memory used in such a way. It felt disrespectful to publicise it, and each time it happened, it spurred another bout of mourning for what I’d lost that I wasn’t eager to undergo in the public eye. But if all of that mourning and experience meant that I could be sure when Jason  _ did _ return to us, then it was worth every heartache.”

Bruce was typically out of touch with any kind of emotion, and he’d spent so many years playing the oblivious party-goer that Jason had almost forgotten just how well the man knew how to play a crowd when needed. Just by looking out across the faces, he could see that most of them had bought the story hook, line, and sinker. The grieving parent was something that naturally tugged at people’s hearts, and for those who remained unaffected, they knew that to attack such a person would put them on the public’s shit list, something most of them couldn’t afford.

Vicki Vale looked cooly unaffected as she quietly sat back down, but Cat Grant looked the slightest bit frustrated as she followed suit. Jason had heard through the grapevine about Kara’s troubles with Cat spinning her in a bad light, and apparently that scorn extended to prominent families in the media, because it sure seemed like she’d been doing her best to paint Bruce as a shitty parent. Unluckily for both of the reporters, however, Bruce had years of experience with this type of thing. It was easy to forget in light of… well. His entire personality, really, and the way he carried himself as Batman, but Bruce had been playing the media game for decades, longer than half of them had even been alive, and he’d never lost yet.

After that rare display of genuine passion and confidence, most of the reporters were cowed into silence. After a moment without any other hands being raised, Tim stepped forward once more, pulling the attention. 

“As I’m sure most of you can understand,” he started evenly, pointedly not looking toward Vicki or Cat, “our family is asking for time as we process this unexpected turn of events. Jason was never comfortable with the press, and especially now it can be quite daunting for him, so we’re asking for privacy in the following days. Thank you all for attending, and for all of the well wishes.”

With that, Tim stepped back once more, Bruce pulling him into a side hug and favoring him with a soft smile as the cameras clicked frantically to capture the moment. They both turned back toward the chairs where the rest of them now stood. Jason pushed any questions he had to the back of his mind for the time and focused fully on the image he was presenting. 

As Bruce and Tim walked toward them, Dick’s arm came up around his shoulders, a bit of a comical sight since he was a good two inches shorter than Jason, but Jason just slouched down a little, pretending to take the comfort gladly. Dick’s other hand rested around Damian, and they followed Cass and Duke out.

The vultures were fed, for now.


	3. Chapter 3

The first splash of color crept into the sky as Jason stared out of the main library window. The sun was just starting to rise, beating back the inky night inch by inch as he watched. He was pretty sure Duke would have something to say about the irony of the red slowly shoving away the black of the night, only to ultimately lose out to the blue of day, but the kid was passed out in his room.

Jason had stumbled across him two days into the enforced stay, buried in a nook of the library and writing down poems that he’d never planned on anyone knowing about, let alone seeing. He’d almost jumped out of his skin when Jason had added a little extra weight to his steps, letting Duke know that he was there, but when he’d just sat down in a nearby chair and cracked open his book, Duke had relaxed again. They’d spent the rest of the afternoon together, neither really talking but both enjoying the calmness of the other’s presence.

He’d been spending a lot of time with Duke lately. The Meta was on the perpetual day shift, which Jason had also been relegated to for the most part, so their schedules aligned more with each other than the others. With so many vigilantes in one spot, they had to space out their appearances so as not to bring attention to the Wayne family reunion coinciding with the sudden prolonged influx of spandex. 

Though Duke was fully capable of handling himself for the few hours the others were still sleeping, he’d admitted to Jason that it was kind of fun to be out there with him.

Jason also enjoyed it, but that was more to do with the fact that showing up during the day scared the shit out of some of the idiots that thought they were safe from the Red Hood as long as they stayed in at night. Though he didn’t make a habit of it, Jason _did_ occasionally show his face during the day when the situation called for it, so it wasn’t too out of character. 

That didn’t make it any less entertaining, though. 

And Duke really wasn’t too bad of company, in the mask or out.

Now though, it was nice to have a moment to himself. He’d woken up from a half formed nightmare twenty minutes ago, teeth clenched in his pillow to bite back a scream, and been unable to fall asleep again. He’d sought solace in the library, something he hadn’t done since he was fifteen. Alfred wouldn’t be up for another hour, so he essentially had the house to himself. It was quiet and Jason alone, still wanting to scream, but it felt wrong to break the silence, so he didn’t. 

There was a marked difference between waking up to a quiet, empty apartment and waking up in a silent and still mansion. In the city, it was never truly silent. Someone was always awake and moving around somewhere. Cooking. Driving. Working. Yelling. Here, there were no other people or buildings for miles, and even the closest place, Tim’s childhood home, was now empty, its only living occupant sound asleep upstairs. 

It was somehow worse now than it had been the first time around because of how many people he knew were here. At least when he was younger, there was the excuse that he was one of only three beating hearts on the property when the stillness started to really get to him. 

When the door creaked just slightly, Jason wasn’t sure whether he was relieved or not that someone else had chosen to break the silence for him. The left door didn’t creak, something they all knew, so that meant whoever was bugging him probably knew he was here and was intentionally letting their presence be known.

He didn’t turn around just yet, though, staring out at the strip of red clouds on the horizon that was steadily growing. The figure walked just loud enough to hear as they padded across the room to take a seat on the windowsill next to him. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” Dick asked, his head tipped back to rest against the wall as his eyes slid gently shut.

Jason hummed in response, pillowing his chin on his raised knees and compacting himself a little more to make room for the other man. He tilted his head to fully face Dick, and took in his state.

He looked like warmed over shit, frankly.

Jason could see the slightest beginnings of stubble clinging to his face and throat where Dick had bared it so easily. Dick had never really been one to get bags under his eyes, lucky as ever in the genetic lottery, but there was a definite hint of a shadow and crease there as well, and his normally thick waves were a windswept mess atop his head.

Dick still wouldn’t have looked out of place on the cover of a magazine, to be sure, but underneath all that, Jason knew that he was tired. He’d been making the drive to Bludhaven and back every night, making sure that Nightwing was spotted right where he was supposed to be. Even though his commute took an extra three hours out of his day, he’d still been waking up at the same time as the others, and his days typically consisted of training and case work like the rest of them, with the added job of keeping the peace between whoever happened to be fighting at that moment. Jason couldn’t remember a single time in the past week where he’d seen Dick take a minute for himself to just relax.

“Just getting back in?” Jason asked, his voice a little rougher than he’d like.

Dick hummed back, not opening his eyes or otherwise acknowledging him, which Jason supposed was fair.

“You should head to bed,” he mumbled, looking back out the window. A bird was sitting on the tree a few yards out, and Jason could just barely make out its song through the glass.

“I could say the same to you,” Dick replied without any heat. “How are you holding up in all of this?” he continued a moment later.

Jason snorted lightly. “Who, me? Peachy keen, why do you ask?”

A hand laid softly against his forearm. “Jason.”

It was something none of them were talking about. They were all being required to attend the next charity gala, two weeks from now. It would be their first public appearance since the announcement.

He’d been dreading it from the second he’d been told.

“I’ll be fine, Dick,” he replied evenly. “Not like I’ve never been to one before. I sure as hell won’t _enjoy_ it, but who knows. Maybe it’s more fun with little siblings to bully.”

“It definitely beats going alone,” Dick joked, and when Jason looked at him out of the corner of his eye, he could see a small, sardonic smile tilting his lips up. That smile died almost immediately, though. “I don’t want to go either,” he admitted.

Jason held back his scoff, but something must have shown on his face because he felt Dick’s hand, a warm and comfortable weight, twitch before it was withdrawn softly.

“They definitely suck, but you’ve always been the best with them,” Jason explained, not looking at him. Being compared to Dick had been a constant through his life, but this difference was one that still stung, despite all his efforts otherwise. Like everything else, Dick made it seem almost effortless.

Dick was silent for a moment. “I always thought Tim was rather good at them.”

“He does his bit well, but it takes a bigger toll on him,” he countered quietly. He’d stumbled across Tim after an event not more than a month back. The living room had been empty when he’d looked in through the window, and he’d been ready to leave, assuming that Tim just wasn’t home. He’d remembered that there was some sort of event that night, and with how dead the place looked he’d figured that Tim had needed to crash at the Manor or something instead of making it back to his apartment.

He’d looked back one more time from the neighboring roof, though, and quickly counted out the window that he knew belonged to Tim’s bedroom, expecting to just see blinds.

But the blinds had been up. The window was open, and he’d seen Tim sitting at the foot of his bed where he never slept, wrapped in Conner Kent’s arms. His shoulders had been shaking.

Jason had ducked down and crawled closer, heart in his throat as he pressed himself against the lip of the roof. Tim had been through a lot, and no one knew that better than him, so anything that could bring the kid to his knees was something that had him worried.

“I can’t,” Tim’s unsteady voice had floated up, so faint that he’d had to strain to hear it. “I can’t keep doing this.”

“It’s okay,” Conner had soothed, his hand brushing back some of Tim’s hair and his arms tightening around him. “You’re alright.”

After a few heartbeats spent holding Tim, Conner had spoken up again. “What happened?”

A wet sniff answered him, but Conner had been patient. Another moment of silence followed before Tim answered. His voice had been muffled by the fact that he was practically speaking into Conner’s shoulder, but was still loud enough for Jason to make out.

“There was a gala tonight. I-” A strangled pause, and a shaky exhale. “I had to cover for everyone so they could handle a drug bust on the other side of town. They were gone longer than I expected, and I was alone for hours.”

Jason’s heart had been beating faster and faster. He’d felt shitty for eavesdropping, but the image of Bruce or Damian’s bodies floating face down in the river was swimming through his mind. He’d needed to know what the hell had happened.

“I’m so sorry, babe,” Conner had murmured into Tim’s hair.

Tim had tried to laugh, but it had come out more like a sob. “I should be better than this.”

Conner had pulled back, making Tim look him in the eye. _“No._ You shouldn’t have to put up with their shit at all, that’s not your fault. And besides, you’re the strongest person I know. If _you_ need to be stronger, I don’t know what hope the rest of us have.”

The following laugh had sounded more genuine and Conner had pulled Tim close again. “I’m sorry,” Tim had said. “I’m just so tired. Even with everything I do to make these stupid fucking parties go well, with all the facades I put up so they have nothing to complain about, they’re still just… They’re all horrible! The things they say when they think I can’t hear them, the things they say so I _will_ hear… and I can’t do anything but grin and bear it. And the shit they say about Bruce, about everyone else-” Tim had cut himself off again, voice shaking with something that sounded like either heartbreak or rage. “If I have to listen to _one more fucking person_ imply that I got where I am because I let Bruce fuck me, I’m going to scream.”

Jason had slid down, as quietly as he could, aware that the slightest noise might bring with it a face full of protective Super, Bruce’s Meta ban be damned.

There had been more soothing from Conner, and eventually the voices had faded out. Jason wasn’t sure exactly how long he’d sat there, shaking.

He’d been called street trash during those few years with Bruce. A charity case, a publicity stunt, and it had been all but said plain to his face on more than one occasion that Bruce had taken him home as a bed warmer, that that was the only reason he was allowed to stay in the country (despite the fact that he’d been _born_ here and had never even left the city before Bruce had taken him in, thank you very fucking much), but he’d never thought that any of the others, especially Tim, had to put up with that too.

Tim came from a respectable background. They had no reason to single him out. 

Dick was a charmer, had taken to his new lot in life with a lot more grace than Jason thought any of the rest of them had managed. As far as Jason knew, he wasn’t in danger of anything besides a few annoyingly chummy smiles.

Cassandra, Damian, and Duke were the more likely targets, and Jason knew they’d be in the danger zone should they interact with anything high society, but because of their upbringings and past experiences with the League in Cass and Damian’s cases, and the sheer brevity of time he’d been around in Duke’s, Jason had doubted they’d been forced to attend any galas since coming to live with Bruce. They were safe for now.

And sure, there would always be the people that had less than polite thoughts about all of them no matter what, but he hadn’t thought any of them would have to deal with the same level of bullshit he’d been put through. He’d thought that Bruce’s reputation, and his own to an extent, had protected them.

He never would have thought it had gotten this bad.

He’d shown up the next afternoon with Tim’s favorite meal ready to cook and hadn’t said anything about what he’d heard the night before.

Next to him now, Dick let out a sigh, sounding, for the first time, as tired as Jason knew he was. “Yeah. It does.”

Jason finally looked over at him. “We’re going to make sure none of them have to put up with any more shit, aren’t we. Even if it means we have to deal with all the assholes instead.” The steel in his eyes ensured that there was no way Dick could mistake the statement as a question, regardless of the way his voice had lifted up at the end.

Dick stared back at him, features solemn. The exhaustion was even more clear on his face now. “Of course.”

They sat together like that for a while, neither of them saying anything else. Jason’s gaze shifted back outside, absently looking for the bird that had fallen silent at some point, but he watched Dick out of the corner of his eye. The other man’s head was bowed slightly, his eyes closed.

Eventually, Dick stood. There seemed to be a weight to him that Jason hadn’t noticed when he was sitting. “‘Night, Jay.” That smile was back, but most of his face was quickly engulfed in soft shadow as the first ray of sun fought its way into the sky. “Or morning, I guess.”

Dick’s steps were silent as he walked away, the left door closing behind him without a sound. The sunlight warmed Jason’s side as he sat there, still curled up to make room for two. When he finally looked out the window again, he saw nothing but blue sky over the ocean.

All of the gray clouds were on the other side of the house, hanging low over the city.

* * *

“You seemed a little distracted out there,” Duke noted as they parked their bikes in the cave that afternoon.

Jason kicked the stand down. “A lot on my mind.”

Something was up with Dick, and it was more than just a lack of sleep. He’d seen Dick operate on minimum sleep and this was something else. Nothing had been overtly off, but there was a sense of wrongness about the whole thing that he just couldn’t dismiss or fully explain. And the way he’d tensed up had followed Jason all throughout patrol.

He also couldn’t stop thinking about the state he’d found Tim in last month after having it brought up again. Even when Jason had been doing his damndest to hurt the kid, he’d never once broken down like that.

“Anything I should be worried about?” Duke joked, tugging his helmet off and running a hand over his hair.

He hesitated, glad that his helmet still hid expression. “Have you… noticed anything going on with Dick or Tim lately?” he asked, pulling his gloves off.

Duke frowned, his gaze dropping to the handles in front of him as he thought it over. “Not really,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t mean much. I haven’t seen much of them outside of the occasional joint case, and I was usually more focused on the bad guys than them, y’know? The only people I really see on a regular basis are Damian, Alfred, and Bruce.”

Jason had known it was a longshot, but he still forced back frustration at the lack of helpful leads. He pulled the helmet off and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to detangle the matted mess a little. “Yeah,” he sighed, “I figured. Thanks anyways.” He stood up and started walking to the showers, craving the feeling of being clean again, but Duke quickly followed, apparently not done with the conversation.

He jogged up next to Jason. “Well wait, what _should_ I have been noticing? What’s going on with them that got you this preoccupied?”

Jason bit the inside of his cheek wondering how much he could say without being yelled at if it got back to the person in question. At the same time, though, Duke was definitely the most emotionally capable person in their family. He might be able to at least give Jason some ideas for how to proceed from here.

“You ever been to any of the galas Bruce has to go to sometimes?” he asked instead.

Duke frowned again at the apparent non sequitur. “Nah. There haven’t been too many lately, and the one that I _was_ gonna have to go to ended up not being a thing since the bust we were working took too long. Bruce just sent me home instead.”

That was probably the one Tim had been left alone at last month, Jason thought. “Does Tim ever talk about them? Did he debrief or anything with you guys afterward?”

Duke’s brow furrowed deeper. “Not with me. He probably talked to Bruce, though, let him know if anything important came up.” Duke looked up at him, concern clear on his face. “Why?”

Again, Jason thought about what all he could tell Duke. “I’m worried about the event next week,” he finally admitted as they came to a stop at the lockers outside the shower. He sat down on the bench, resting his elbows on his knees as Duke took a seat next to him. “Be glad you’ve never had to go to one before, because they fucking suck,” he stated bluntly. “Hopefully this one won’t be as bad since we’re all gonna have to suffer through it together, but it’s still not pleasant.”

He turned his head to meet Duke’s gaze. “Rich people are dicks. They think since they have money and a modicum of power, they can say and do whatever they want. It’s…” he hesitated here, looking down at his boots. “Worse for us,” he finished carefully. “You’re kid number six, so Bruce’s adoption habits are old news, but almost all of them are old money, and old money tends to be pretty damn racist.”

When Jason looked back up, Duke was nodding, his expression sober as he listened. “On top of that, you’re not exactly from a ‘good’ part of town.” While Crime Alley was definitively on the bottom of everyone’s list, the Narrows weren’t much higher. “Someone’s gonna say shit.”

It wasn’t a maybe. And Duke needed to be ready for that.

“I know,” Duke said under his breath, gaze falling to the ground. His lips twitched into what could almost be called a smile if it wasn’t so bitter. “Can’t say that’s really a shock. Bruce does his best to make sure I don’t have to deal with it or see it, but it’s not like it never happened before either.”

Jason didn’t have to respond for Duke to know that he understood. 

Duke looked back up at him, his eyes sad. “Does Tim get it too?”

Jason rubbed a hand over his face, tired. “Not quite the same, but people’ll find any excuse to be shitty. And he tries to pretend that none of it bothers him, but…”

Duke nodded again. “Dick too?”

Jason let his face drop entirely into his hands, running them over his head as he groaned. “Frankly I don’t know _what’s_ going on with Dick.” 

They sat there for a moment, Jason holding his head and Duke staring at him. “So what’re you gonna do about it?” Duke asked quietly.

Jason side eyed him, glaring lightly. “I don’t know. That’s kind of why I was distracted all day and why we’re having this little impromptu bonding session, remember?”

Duke snorted, a real smile gracing his face. “Alright, fair enough.” He paused for a second, thinking. “Well, you know what’s going on with Tim, right?”

Jason nodded. He was positive he didn’t even have the half of it, but he knew where to start at least. 

“Then go talk to him,” Duke said simply, standing up. “Let him know you’re there for him. And once you’ve got that all figured out, go find Dick.”

Jason groaned once more as he laid down on the now empty bench and threw his arm over his eyes. “Why did I come to you for advice? You’re the _only_ one that would actually tell me to talk about feelings.”

“Because I’m the smartest person in here?” Duke suggested. 

Jason moved the arm just enough to glare at Duke. “You take that back, Alfred is right there.”

“Oh sorry,” Duke chuckled. “I’m the _second_ smartest person here,” he corrected.

“There you go,” Jason mumbled. He’d give it five minutes before he got up to shower.

Then he apparently had a bird to track down.

* * *

Jason found Tim in his room. 

“Knock knock,” he called out in lieu of actually knocking as he leaned against the doorway.

“Who’s there?” Tim asked in a deadpan, gaze fixed on his laptop screen.

Jason huffed out a breath, pushing himself off from the wall and walking into the room. “The guy who’s gonna kick your ass if you make a stupid knock knock joke,” he said, sitting down on the bed since Tim was already occupying the office chair. 

Tim didn’t reply, but Jason could see the corner of his lip lifting just slightly. 

“Here,” Jason called, waiting for Tim to look before tossing him one of Alfred’s granola bars. He’d talked with the man during a late lunch and the Englishman had mentioned that Tim hadn’t eaten with the others. He’d pointedly told Jason where the freshly baked goods were located.

“Thanks,” Tim mumbled before taking a bite. 

He looked like he hadn’t been sleeping well either. The bags that had been missing from underneath Dick’s eyes were fully present on the teenager in front of him.

“How was patrol?” Tim asked in between bites, turning his chair to face Jason as he chewed.

“Fine. Stopped a few muggings; tourists mostly.” Tim hummed. A day wasn’t complete without an attempted mugging. “I think Duke stopped a robbery, but I was in the Bowery and he had it finished before I’d even made it halfway there.”

“That’s good,” Tim replied. “He’s come a long way in a pretty short period of time.”

“I know what you mean,” Jason said, leaning back on his elbows. “I was still making rookie mistakes at the point he’s at. Though he does have more mentors than any of the rest of us did.”

Tim dipped his head in acknowledgment. “It helps. I know Kon had a rougher time figuring things out at first than I did. Cassie and Bart too, but they still had it easier than Kon did.”

“I think that might’ve also had something to do with the fact that you were a lot more mature than he was,” Jason countered. “He had all of, what, five minutes life experience when he started?”

Tim shook his head, turning back to his laptop as he finished the granola bar. “Something like that,” he mumbled.

Jason recognized the slight strain in Tim’s voice and dropped the topic, hoping he hadn’t accidentally hit too close to home with something.

In the ensuing silence, he grabbed onto the first thing he could think of. “What are you working on?”

Tim didn’t stop typing or take his eyes off of the laptop as he answered. “A finance report. Lucius wants to know how much we’re planning to invest in charities this quarter.”

Jason nodded silently. He was good with money (he’d had to be in order to survive, both as a kid and a mob boss), but the scale that Tim was dealing with was something he didn’t envy. With all of the loopholes and shell companies and carefully drafted contracts they had to go through to make sure Batman would never be traced back to Wayne Enterprises, Lucius, and now Tim, had their hands full. In comparison, the actual charity work was almost mind numbingly simple.

“Why haven’t you handed things back to Bruce yet?” he couldn’t stop himself from asking curiously. It was something he’d been wondering for a while now. He could see the toll it was taking on someone who, by all accounts, should’ve been in school, not the office. Tim had his GED, so school was out, but he was still young, and it’s not like Bruce wasn’t used to handling things. 

Tim briefly stopped, looking over at him strangely before turning back to the laptop and resuming his typing. It was slower than before. “What do you mean?”

“You can’t actually _want_ to spend all your time dealing with bureaucrats and rich assholes,” Jason prompted. 

Tim kept typing.

Jason pushed himself up at that, his eyes narrowing. “You’re kidding,” he stated. That didn’t fit in the slightest with what he’d seen and heard in Tim’s apartment.

The only response was the steady sound of the keyboard.

“‘The hell is wrong with you?” Jason demanded incredulously. “Why would you _voluntarily_ do that to yourself?”

Tim answered, finally, but his voice was flat. “You say that like I’m not also a bureaucrat and a rich asshole.”

He snorted. “Not like them,” he muttered.

The typing finally stopped. Tim had stopped moving entirely, his gaze fixed on the screen in front of him. “And what exactly separates me from them?” Tim met his gaze head on. “I was born into wealth. I’m actively skimming money from my company that’s being used to fuel personal projects, instead of the charities it _should_ be going to. Everything people know about me is fake.”

Jason stared him down. “That’s not at all the same and you know it.”

“Do I?” Tim countered calmly, eyebrows raised. “At the end of the day, the result is the same.”

“Bull _shit_ it is,” Jason immediately argued, but there was no response. The teen in front of him was like stone. “What brought this on?” he asked quietly, after a minute of silence between them. 

Tim didn’t flinch. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I _mean,”_ he said, his voice rising and speeding up in his carefully held back anger, “when did you decide that you’re no different from the people that used to tell me I was lucky Bruce was so kind to street trash? To the people that tell _you-”_ Jason stopped himself, cursing as he realized his mistake.

Tim stiffened immediately, latching onto the cut off words with narrowed eyes. “That tell me _what?”_ he demanded.

Jason stared right back, saying nothing.

“No, where exactly were you going with that Jason?” Tim sounded indignant, and a touch harried. As Jason still remained silent, Tim stood up. “What, have you been spying on me or something? Keeping tabs? Listening in when people just so _happen_ to mention me?” The vitriol in his voice was palpable, and the sarcasm in his last sentence was so thick Jason could’ve choked on it had he opened his mouth. “Answer me!” he demanded, before scoffing. “God, you’re just like Bruce-”

“I saw you with Conner,” Jason said, cutting Tim off mid word. He felt his anger (at the situation, at his confusion, at his helplessness) spike at the comparison and needed to shut Tim up before this got derailed.

It was only for a millisecond, but Jason could see the tremor that ran through Tim. “What are you talking about?” he demanded once more, confusion plain in his voice. 

Jason knew better. Tim was a good actor, but Jason knew exactly what he was talking about and exactly what to look for.

“I was stopping by to see if you’d eaten yet, but your place was dark so I left. I glanced back on the way out.” He shrugged. “He left the window open.”

Tim stood frozen, staring at Jason with blank eyes that were the equivalent of a deer-in-the-headlights look on anyone that wasn’t part of their family.

Jason could see that there was something on the tip of Tim’s tongue, so he sat silently, waiting for his brother to find the words. 

That proved to have been the wrong move, however. 

Tim took one step back. Quiet. Careful. Not taking his eyes off Jason. He bumped into the back of his chair, and Jason could see his knuckles go white as Tim gripped blindly onto the chair, like it was the only thing holding him up.

Jason frowned, moving to stand and help Tim sit down before he fell, but Tim stumbled back again. The chair rolled away at the force, and Tim pressed back against the desk. Jason could see that he was shaking faintly, though he was trying valiantly to suppress it.

“Tim,” Jason said softly, sitting back down slowly, “I’m sorry. Tell me what’s wrong. What's going on?” He knew that he was talking to Tim like he would a victim, but he couldn’t think of anything else, and even if Tim yelled at him for it, he’d prefer that to the Tim that stood before him now.

Tim let out a stuttering exhale, trying to calm himself. Jason kept his hands in sight, his body open and still. An inhale that was just as shaky, and then, a whisper. 

“Have you- Did you tell anyone?”

“No,” Jason answered evenly. Tim stared at him, scrutinizing his response like his life depended on it.

“Tim,” he called gently. “I haven’t told anyone about anything that I heard. I promise.”

Tim was breathing a little faster now. “Why?”

Jason wanted to frown, because honestly what kind of a question is that? But he kept his expression calm and open. “Because it’s none of their business. I shouldn’t have even seen it, and I’m sorry that I did. I…” he sighed quietly. “I can’t say that I didn’t mean to, because I knew full well what I was doing when I chose to listen in, but I thought someone might’ve been hurt in that drug bust. I needed to know that everyone was alright. And that doesn’t make it right, because I _did_ invade your privacy and I’m sorry, but I didn’t do it to… to hurt you, or anything like that, okay?”

This would be so much easier if he knew what exactly had turned Tim as white as a sheet, but he figured a general blanket apology would help.

“Why haven’t you said anything before now?” Tim questioned, each breath deliberate, but more controlled now. His knuckles were still white where they held onto the desk.

God, if Tim didn’t look like the slightest breeze would do him in, he’d kick the kid for pressing this. “Because I didn’t want you to get mad at me for it.,” he admitted, looking away and fighting against the heat in his face. “I figured if I never said anything, it wouldn’t be a big deal. But Tim, with the charity gala next week, I need to talk to you about this.”

Tim blinked. “The chari- What? Why are we-?” Tim cut himself off, blinking again and frowning slightly, before his expression cleared again. “Oh. _Oh.”_

Jason allowed himself to frown a little. “What did you think we were talking about?” 

Instantly, Tim froze again. “I-” He forced in another breath that did nothing to stop the shaking. “So. So you’re not… _upset_ about… about Kon?”

He felt his eyes narrow. “Should I be?” he asked slowly.

“No!” Tim yelled frantically, shrinking back once more and clenching his jaw. “N-no,” he said with a more even tone. Jason made note of the stutter, but didn’t think it would be a good idea to mention it.

“Tim. Why did you think I might be upset about you dating Kon?”

“I’m not-” Tim began, almost reflexively, before stopping himself once more, turning his head slightly away and breathing out. “I… I haven’t told anyone,” he mumbled. 

_Oh._ Jason knew _exactly_ where he’d gone wrong. He cursed himself for not noticing it earlier, but he’d been so caught up in what he’d heard that what he’d _seen_ hadn’t made the same impact it probably would have otherwise. 

“Tim… You know I’m bi, right?”

Tim looked up at him, eyes almost piercing. “You are?” he asked quietly.

Jason nodded, letting out a shaky laugh and smile. “Yeah, man.” He hesitated, knowing that it wasn’t his place to out Dick since he obviously hadn’t talked to Tim about this like he had with him, but he needed to say more. “Bruce and Dick both know. I showed up at the Tower one day shaking. Dick asked what had happened.”

Jason breathed in, remembering how damn scared he’d been, and pushing past the memories that sprung up. “We’d come across someone I’d known before Bruce took me in, another street kid that I used to… that I used to have a crush on,” he admitted grudgingly. “We saved him from getting stabbed in an alley, and he kissed my cheek in thanks before running off. I knew he hadn’t actually meant anything by it, that’s just kind of how he was, but I was over the fucking moon. And then I looked over at Bruce, and he was just staring at me. All those butterflies turned to lead in my stomach and I panicked. I thought he was going to throw me out, or that he’d…” Jason cut himself off. He’d heard all about people who would try to beat you straight, or get more brutally intimate if the mood struck them. Looking back, he should’ve known that Bruce was nothing like that, that he actively took those people down with _extreme_ prejudice, but years on the street had left him paranoid. And there had always been the other possibility, the one that lurked dark and murky and left him breathless and wide awake in fear every night in those first few months.

But Tim didn’t need to know all that.

“I was scared,” he continued quietly. “I ran. The only place I could think to go where Bruce wouldn’t follow was the Tower. He and Dick were in an especially rough patch, so I ran to my bike and didn’t look back. The sun was just barely rising when I showed up, yelling and banging on the front entrance since I didn’t have any access codes yet, and someone buzzed me in. Dick had just rolled out of bed, probably’d only been _in_ it for an hour, if that, and he didn’t look too happy to be woken up, but hell if he wasn’t the best damn thing my eyes had ever laid sight on in that moment. The anger slipped right off his face when he saw the state I was in.” 

Jason looked up from the floor to see Tim practically hanging off every word. “I told him what happened. That was the first time he ever hugged me. I was still in my uniform and I was sweaty and shaking, but he pulled me in and told me it was okay. That it didn’t matter to him, or to the Titans or Bruce or Alfred. No one would hurt me.” He held Tim’s gaze to make sure the kid understood what he was saying. “He wouldn’t let them.”

Dick had also told Jason that he was pansexual, that he knew how nerve-wracking it must have been for Jason, but that Bruce had accepted him without question the second he’d told him. But again, Jason knew it wasn’t his place to offer that incredibly helpful bit of information.

“It didn’t change anything. Bruce still saw me exactly the same way he did before. He didn’t pressure me to come out to anyone, not even Alfred, and he was there for me when I _did_ decide I was gonna tell someone.”

Tim’s eyes were red, but he was refusing to let the tears fall. Jason hesitated, then stood slowly and opened his arms a little. Tim let out a shaky laugh, closing his eyes as the first tear made its way down his face, and let himself fall into the embrace.

“I’m sorry,” Tim mumbled into his collar, and Jason couldn’t help but remember him doing the exact same thing with Conner.

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for,” he murmured. “It’s fucking terrifying, not knowing. None of this is your fault, alright?”

Another thought occurred to him. “Is this why you so adamant we told people I was alive again?” Tim had been so tense and almost jittery in the Cave that night, but he’d thought the other was just annoyed at his privacy being invaded, disquieted by the fact that people thought he was dating his brother, like Jason had been.

Tim tightened his grip around Jason, nodding slowly against his chest. Jason realized that he must’ve been terrified with the sudden speculation. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to wait to shut that particular rumor down. “How long have you been carrying this around?”

Tim seemed to cringe into himself a little at the question. “Do you mean Kon, or just… me?”

“Both,” he answered, squeezing tighter for just a second to let Tim know that it was okay, that he wasn’t going anywhere. 

“I was… I started dating Kon a few months before he-” Tim stopped, pressing his forehead into Jason’s collarbone. “Before he died,” he finished in a whisper.

God, Jason had forgotten about that. He hadn’t even known that it had happened in the first place until Tim had mentioned something weird a while back and he’d done some digging. He didn’t want to think about how much that must have fucked the kid up.

“But I’ve known I like men since I was a kid,” Tim concluded, ducking his head a little further against Jason’s chest.

He almost didn’t want to ask, but you didn’t get a reaction as severe as what Tim had just gone through without prompting.

“Did your parents know?”

Tim shook a little in his arms again, and Jason pulled him in tighter.

“No. They weren’t… very accepting people, in any aspect.”

Jason had had his fair share of slurs directed at him, even before he’d become Robin (and boy, did the hired help sure love throwing downright _disgusting_ words at Robin to try and shake the boy behind the mask), but it still hurt to think that Tim had grown up with that too. He wasn’t going to press for details, he wasn’t a fucking idiot and he _did_ have training in how to handle victims, but from what he knew about Jack and Janet Drake, he could fill in the gaps well enough for himself.

“I’m sorry,” he said simply. There really wasn’t anything else he could say.

They stayed like that for a while, Tim practically clinging to him, but Jason remembered how much Dick’s touch and acceptance had meant to him all those years ago. Nothing short of a second fiery death would make him pull away before Tim was ready. 

After a few minutes, Tim pulled back a little, wiping away the moisture covering his face and looking slightly embarrassed, but mostly happy, and a damn sight calmer than he had been before.

Jason sat back down on the edge of the bed as Tim walked into the bathroom. He’d give the kid some time to collect himself again before pouncing on him with the topic he’d come to discuss in the first place. He hadn’t forgotten what Tim had said earlier.

A few minutes later, Tim walked out, still red faced, but looking a lot better. He hesitated for a moment before sitting down awkwardly next to Jason. His office chair was still halfway across the room.

“Tim,” Jason started carefully. “I still want to talk to you about the gala, and what happened last month. Do you want to do that now, or do you need me to give you a couple of days?”

Tim lowered his head before answering. “No. I’d rather just get it over with.”

Jason nodded. 

“How long have people been saying things like that to you?”

Tim ducked his head even further down, turning his face away from Jason. “It happened once or twice when Bruce took me in the first time, when my dad was in his coma. It was mostly just speculation and a few eyebrows raising, but the worst didn’t start until after I took over the company.”

Jason was quiet, waiting to see if Tim would say anything else. “I mean I get it,” he continued in a rush. “I’m really young, and I came out of nowhere and it looks suspicious, but I-”

“Don’t,” Jason said in a harsh voice, and Tim shut his mouth immediately. Jason blew out a breath. “Don’t excuse their behavior,” he clarified in a softer voice. “There _is_ no excuse for it, got it? They have no right to treat you like that, to say that kind of shit.”

Tim was silent, looking with unseeing eyes at the floor.

“If they were saying that type of thing about Damian or Duke, would you still try to justify it?”

Tim’s eyes squeezed shut. “No.”

“Then why is it different for you?” he demanded softly.

Tim’s jaw trembled as he kept his silence. He looked exhausted and Jason felt horrible being the reason for part of that, but Tim needed to hear all of this.

“What did you mean before, when you said you’re no different than they are? Because I can tell you from experience, you’re nothing like them.”

“But I could’ve been,” Tim insisted dully. “I have the same background as most of them. I’m a lot more like my mother than I want to be. She always wore a mask too. She was ambitious and always willing to act whatever way she needed to in order to get what she wanted.” Tim’s eyes shifted over to him. “I do the same thing,” he muttered. “Y’know, Kon actually told me about it once, before we- before we started dating. He said that I always change who I am, my entire personality, so that whoever I’m with will like me, or respect me, or whatever else I need from them. When we first started going out, he told me flat out that he didn’t want a version of me, an act that I put up for him. He wanted _me._ But I don’t even know if I know _how_ to be me.”

“And Bruce’s training didn’t help, I imagine,” Jason put in softly. They were all trained actors. They had to be. But that had probably just reinforced everything Tim had already internalized.

Tim’s laugh was weak, almost pitiful, and _shit,_ Jason hated this, would happily grab the Drakes by the shoulders and shake them both until they understood what they’d done if they weren’t already six feet under.

“No, it didn’t,” Tim confirmed. “It just made me better at something I’d perfected long before he even knew my name.”

“Look,” Jason sighed. “I know that compartmentalization is important to the work we do. And we’d never survive without the ability to separate ourselves into different people at the drop of a hat. But what you’re talking about isn’t healthy. It’s hurting you.”

“I know,” he replied hollowly. “But I don’t know how to be any other way.”

Jason swung his arm over Tim’s shoulders and pulled him close. “You can start by letting the people you trust know. They can’t help you if they don’t know there’s a problem in the first place. It sounds like Conner’s been good for you. You need more people like that.” 

Jason swallowed down a bitter taste. “Don't be like me,” he muttered. “Don’t push people away anymore. Being alone makes it so that people can’t see when you’re feeling weak, when you’re on the verge of falling apart, but it’s not… It’s not worth it. You’ve got to let people in.”

It was quiet between them, and Jason knew that Tim had a long way to go, that this wasn’t magically going to fix things. They’d still have to deal with the charity gala in a week and Jason still needed to figure what the hell was going on with Dick.

But this felt like a step in the right direction. He could feel Tim relaxing into his side, and it felt good to know he’d done _something_ at least.

And then.

“When did you turn into Mr. Healing?” Tim asked, and Jason was about a second away from slapping him.

“Oh shut the _fuck_ up, I can be emotionally intelligent. I’m not fucking _Bruce.”_

Tim laughed, even as Jason shoved him back onto the bed.

“He _does_ have emotions, y’know” Tim threw out, now laying back on his bed, his arms crossed over his chest.

“At the very least, he knows what they look like,” Jason allowed. He knew that Bruce felt just as much as the rest of them, despite all evidence to the contrary. It was getting past all the walls and masks he’d built up for himself that was the real trick.

“I’m serious Jay,” Tim insisted, pushing himself up to his elbows, but looking down at the mattress. “I wouldn’t have been so worried about his reaction otherwise.”

Jason softened a little. Tim had been through hell and back time and time again. He deserved what little ground Jason could give. “I know,” he admitted, staring off at the laptop that was still sitting on Tim’s desk. “He does a damn good job hiding it, though.”

“He has to,” Tim replied quietly. “Bruce grew up with all those rich assholes too, remember? And he lost the people who were supposed to protect him from that.” Jason was about to snipe that at least he’d _had_ those parents to begin with, he’d had _some_ protection and a decently good example, unlike half of them, but he knew that wasn’t fair. “You really think he would’ve survived all that if he hadn’t buried everything? Learned to play his part? And that’s not even _touching_ Batman.”

“Yeah, well, I think he dug that hole a little too deep,” he scoffed. “Hell, at the press release _I_ could barely tell when he was lying. If I didn’t know it was all a performance to keep the hounds at bay, I almost would’ve believed it.”

“The ‘performance’ at the interview wasn’t all a lie,” Tim said softly. “Bruce definitely played it up, but those emotions didn’t come from nowhere. You didn’t see him right after you… after he lost you. He was _brutal._ He put people in the hospital, he stopped showing up as Bruce Wayne, and he… he let Joker die. Or at least, he thought he did. He didn’t pull the trigger, but he sure as hell didn’t do much to save him. He was a _mess,_ Jay. And no matter how much it hurt him when you came back guns blazing, he was still just happy you were alive in the first place.”

His instinct was to bite back, to deny and insult and move on to something that wasn’t so close to him. Mentioning that psychotic fucking _clown_ always riled him up, and the thought that maybe Bruce _had_ tried to stop him was too much to deal with at that particular moment, so cruel deflection was his tried and true default. 

But he couldn’t, he _wouldn’t_ do that to Tim right now, not after he’d spent the last half hour sobbing into his chest and thinking that he was about to lose everything. 

“He had a funny way of showing it,” Jason muttered instead, swallowing everything else down for another day.

Tim said nothing, either in condemnation or defense.

Jason sighed and shifted, glancing momentarily at the door. “Look-”

But Tim just smiled. “I get it. Too much emotional talk all at once.”

Jason shook his head, but was internally grateful that Tim was willing to let this go for now, no doubt in part because he needed time himself.

He stood and rested his hand on Tim’s shoulder. If he was going to irrevocably shatter his reputation anyways, he might as well go all in.

“If you… y’know. If you need to talk about any of this stuff, I’ll make the time,” he said honestly. “But you don’t need to be afraid. We’re here for you. All of us.”

Tim’s smile was as amused as it was thankful, but Jason was too tired to think about why right now. “Thank you Jason.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled playfully, walking towards the door. “Just don’t go telling everyone that I have a softer side or I _will_ kick your ass.”

Tim huffed out a quiet laugh and Jason smiled slightly at the door. “And Tim?”

“Yeah?”

“Call Conner.”

* * *

Alfred had long since enforced a Sunday dinner rule, even though the day really didn’t hold any special meaning for most of them. Jason knew that it had been a tradition for Alfred growing up, though, and no one was dumb enough to fight him on it. Everyone who was able to would get together a few hours before patrol for an early meal together, with no business talk of any kind allowed. Occasionally, some of the others would show up, with Kate and Steph being the most regular of the bunch, he’d been told.

It was their second Sunday dinner since they were all forced together, and one of few more that Jason had attended at all since coming back. It was honestly going better than he’d thought it would. The one last week had been tense, with everyone eating together for the first time. All of the dinners Jason had managed to drag himself to had been incomplete, with someone on the other side of the world or too exhausted to make the drive to the Manor, so it was odd seeing everyone seated at the same table.

Jason was an only child growing up, and Dick hadn’t been around much, so most of his experience was living in units of two or three. The past week had been a rude awakening for him. He knew, intellectually, that Bruce had managed to collect an impressive number of kids, but Jason rarely saw more than two or three at a time, so he supposed it hadn’t really hit him just how big this family had grown until he’d seen them all gathered in one space.

This week was a little easier. They’d had time to get comfortable with each other, and Jason wasn’t so thrown by the sheer number of people. He’d somewhat acclimated to constantly having others around, though he longed for the day he could go back to his own apartment.

He took another bite, finishing off his share of the roast before grabbing some of the mung dahl Alfred had made for Damian. He hadn’t known that the kid was a vegetarian before last week, but with the amount of animals he’d seen wandering around, he supposed it made sense.

Dick was a lot quieter this week, but he was seated at the opposite corner of the table. There was no chance Jason could talk to him without everyone hearing, so he left that task to Damian for now, who was sitting across from Dick and doing a valiant job of engaging the older man in conversation.

As he returned the serving spoon to the bowl, Tim reached out for it from where he sat in front of Jason. He hadn’t seen Tim since their conversation on Friday, but he looked like he had been sleeping better in the last couple days. The creases under his eyes had smoothed out a little, and he looked a little less likely to jump out of his skin.

As soon as he’d swallowed the first bite of the spiced chowder, Cass put her hand down lightly against his arm, drawing his attention. “You have been watching Dick,” she noted quietly.

Jason searched her face, saw that she wasn’t asking, and nodded. His relationship with her had been rough for the most part, to say the least, but she’d thawed out considerably once he’d stopped killing and started trying to make amends with Tim. He hadn’t been avoiding her the past week, but he definitely wasn’t seeking out time with her. 

He still respected that she could put him on his back in a second if she wanted to, though.

“I have been… practicing with him,” she explained slowly as she searched for the words she wanted. “He is… Upset. Angry. Afraid. The air does not help.” They all knew that Dick took to acrobatics when he was upset. Normally by the time he came back down, he’d have worked through whatever he was dealing with enough to at least relax his posture.

“Do you know why?” he asked quietly. Her brow was furrowed.

“No,” she admitted, though she didn’t look happy about it. “But he does not want touch. He looks… stiff when he does not know I am watching.”

Jason frowned at that. Dick had touched him unprompted just a few days ago. Had Jason just not noticed his newfound aversion, or had something changed since then? Was this what had seemed so off about him, or another thing entirely?

While Cass was amazing at reading people, and was an amazing detective in her own right, Jason knew she still struggled with words. An emotional heart-to-heart wasn’t her arena, something that seemed to be visibly frustrating her.

She was asking him to help her get to the bottom of this.

For just a second, Jason felt frustrated himself. Why was he taking on the role of therapist for their whole fucked up family? If he hadn’t been caught leaving Tim’s, there’s no way in hell he would’ve been here now. Sure, he’d gotten on better terms with everyone recently, but that didn’t mean he wanted the sole responsibility of fixing them. He’d helped Tim out over the past few months, but that didn’t translate to a desire to do the same for _all_ of them.

As soon as the emotion formed, though, it was gone again. No one was forcing him to do any of this. As much as he could try to deny it, he was genuinely concerned. He had already been watching the others a little closer, even before he got dragged back into family life. No matter what bad blood was between them, they were still Jason’s family. And that meant he’d already resigned himself to helping where he could, no matter how much he dragged his feet to get there.

“Got any ideas?” he asked. He knew she’d probably seen his brief anger, as well as the eventual acceptance. He hoped that counted for something with her.

Her answering smile was small but steady.


	4. Chapter 4

“Jason?” Bruce called from his office just as Jason walked past.

Jason’s head jerked up, gaze shifting from his phone, which currently displayed some preliminary research on one of the cases he’d been tracking, to where Bruce stood with a hand on the doorframe.

“Yeah?” he responded, a light frown on his face.

“Can I talk to you?” Bruce asked steadily. Like Cass, Jason hadn’t seen much of him over the course of his stay, something he felt was by design. This was the first time he’d actually sought Jason out.

“Um… sure.” It came out more awkward than he meant it too, but he walked back regardless. Bruce closed the door lightly behind him and Jason moved to the window, leaning against the wall next to it.

Bruce sat on the corner of the desk closest to Jason, hands in his lap.

“Something wrong Old Man?” he asked, trying to hide how tense he was and getting right to the point.

He shouldn’t have bothered. Bruce took one look at him and sighed, and Jason knew he’d read him like an open book.

Jason looked away, instead tracing the patterns carved into the ornate wood paneling behind the desk.

“How have you been holding up?” Bruce asked, not answering his question, he couldn’t help but notice.

“Well enough,” he replied shortly. The dark stained wood (rosewood, his mind supplied absently, or maybe walnut, considering how little reddish warmth was in its tone) shot up in a proud, straight path, outlining an inlaid bookcase.

“I’m sorry that it came to this. I know it wasn’t what you wanted,” Bruce offered quietly.

Jason shrugged. The shelves were filled with large tomes that he doubted Bruce, or anyone else, had ever bothered to read. “Yeah well… Story of my life.” He saw Bruce cringe out of the corner of his eye. It was small, but the fact that it had shown at all spoke volumes.

Every second shelf of the bookcase held a picture frame.

He recalled what Tim had said to him a few days ago. It had been stuck on a loop in his head the entire weekend.

“Did you…” he began, before biting the inside of his lip. 

He saw a picture of Bruce and a young Dick smiling brightly at the camera.

“Yes?” Bruce prompted.

A picture of a grinning Dick with his arms around Tim and Cass, Steph shoving herself underneath Cass’s arm with her own arms around the other girl’s waist. It looked to be from a couple years ago. Tim’s cheeks still held some of the baby fat that had been there the first time they’d met.

“Tim told me you let Joker die,” he said, voice low.

Dick laughing as he hugged a scowling Damian from behind.

Bruce didn’t answer.

Duke smiling hesitantly next to Bruce, Damian standing solemnly at his father’s other side, with the man’s hands on both of his sons’ shoulders.

Jason turned to look at him, hating the damn silence and feeling his anger rise at the fact that Bruce didn’t even have the decency to deny it, to tell him to his face that Tim had it wrong. The harsh words bubbled up his throat, but died on his tongue when he saw Bruce’s grief stricken face. He followed Bruce’s pained gaze to another picture, on the lowest shelf where it would be hidden behind the desk from any other place in the room.

Jason in the kitchen with Alfred, a toothy grin and a stripe of flour on his face as Alfred smiled fondly at him. He couldn’t have been more than 14, just starting to feel like maybe he could have a life here. 

That hope hadn’t lasted long.

“I wanted him to pay,” Bruce said, voice hollow.

His eyes snapped back to Bruce, heartbeat kicking up.

“He bombed a UN meeting. I followed him onto the helicopter he was using to get away. One of the other men onboard shot at us and hit him.” 

Jason stood deathly still, eyes wide as Bruce continued to stare at the picture of him, tucked away where no one but him would find it.

“We were going to crash,” he recounted gravely. His eyes closed and his hands curled into fists. “He just sat there and laughed as he was bleeding out.” Bruce paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was so quiet that Jason had to strain to hear him. “I could’ve grabbed him,” he admitted. “But every time I looked at him, all I saw was you. So I jumped. I left him there. And when the helicopter crashed, I just felt… empty. He was dead and I felt  _ nothing. _ You were still gone, and whether he was still breathing or not didn’t change the sorrow I felt. Or the rage.”

_ He was brutal. _

Jason tried to picture it. Of course he’d seen Batman drugged past the point of inhibition, fists aiming to put down, not incapacitate. But for him to do so intentionally seemed so wrong that he couldn’t reconcile it with the man who had refused every demand Jason made, freshly back in Gotham with blood on his hands.

If anyone had told him this back then, he would’ve been thrilled to know that Bruce was capable of being pushed to that edge, that his death had affected the man so heavily, that he’d  _ mattered _ to him. But now he felt just as hollow as Bruce sounded.

“That’s why you wouldn’t kill him,” Jason whispered. He closed his eyes, hung his head.

“If I let myself go down that road,” Bruce began, “there would be no coming back. I almost  _ didn’t  _ come back from losing you, from letting him die once.” Jason blinked rapidly, pushing back the moisture in his eyes and glancing up at Bruce, who was staring at him with more understanding than he could ever remember seeing in that face. “You know exactly how easy it is to justify more and more once you’ve started down that path.” There was no judgement in his tone as he said it, something Jason hadn’t known he needed so much until it washed over him. “You’re stronger than I could ever be, Jason. You found your way back. I wouldn’t be able to do that.”

Jason inhaled shakily, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “I’m not that strong,” he argued.

“You’re stronger than you could ever guess,” Bruce disagreed, gentle but with absolute conviction. “You’ve been through so much. And you’re still here. It didn’t break you. You’re still just as kind as you’ve ever been.”

Jason scoffed, hating how wet the noise was, and turned his head away.

“I talked with Tim yesterday,” Bruce stated softly. “He never would’ve been able to do that without you.”

Jason swallowed again, the action stinging a little more. “I owed him.”  _ I tried to kill him, _ he didn’t say, but the knowledge rested like a lead weight within him. “I also told him I’d kick his ass if he fucking gossiped.”

“Don’t be too harsh on him,” Bruce chastised him, sounding amused. “He’s had a rough week.” The humor now left his voice. “A rough year.” 

_ A rough life, _ neither of them said.

“You can be angry,” Bruce acknowledged after a moment, again without any of the judgement that had defined their every interaction for the past he didn’t know how many years. “You can be vengeful and stubborn. But it comes from a place of understanding, of empathy and kindness. You’re so harsh on criminals because you know exactly how much they’ve hurt people. You’re one of the most compassionate people I’ve ever met.”

It hurt. It hurt in a way he didn’t know how to deal with to listen to the praise, the sheer warmth and  _ pride _ in Bruce’s voice.

He heard Bruce shift to his feet and tensed up, trying to stop the shaking that had started rolling through his body without his permission.

“You’ve made mistakes, Jay,” he said quietly, moving to stand in front of him. Not touching him. “But you’re not broken, and you’re not something I need to fix. You’re my  _ son,” _ he said fiercely. “And I’m sorry that I ever made you feel otherwise.”

The first tear ran down his cheek and Jason threw himself at his father. Bruce was ready to catch him and held him steady while Jason wound his arms tight around him. He held back the sobs, the noise he wanted to let out so badly, but he couldn’t stop the way his body shook. He just held on tighter and shoved his face into Bruce’s neck.

“I love you so much kiddo,” Bruce whispered, turning his face into Jason’s hair so that he was speaking almost directly into his ear. He held him tighter, pulled him closer. “I’m so sorry.”

Jason trembled in his arms. “I love you too,” he whispered brokenly.

* * *

Jason looked up from his book when a short figure stopped in front of him. 

“Todd,” Damian acknowledged, voice tense.

Jason saw Duke look up from the table he was sitting at and glance between the two of them before putting his headphones back in, ducking his head down once more.

Jason raised his eyebrows. “Yes?” he asked sarcastically.

Damian huffed and looked away, but still moved closer. He sat down next to him, still leaving room between them, and opened his laptop. “Grayson said you could help me.”

Jason leaned a little closer, seeing an open document on the screen. It looked like an English assignment.

_ Oh you’ve got to be kidding me Dick. _

It  _ was  _ an English assignment. About  _ The Outsiders. _

Jason still remembers the first time he read it, not long after Bruce had taken him in. He’d asked his English teacher for a list of books he’d missed over the past few years and nearly had a conniption after getting through that particular novel.

He’d known that Damian had started middle school, and felt bad for the kid having to miss so many days this early into the year, but  _ God _ he hated this book. It reminded him too much of his own life in the dumbest way possible.

“Did he now?” he finally said, narrowing his eyes at the innocently blinking cursor.

“He claimed that you held the best grades in this subject,” Damian explained. He looked about as happy about this as Jason felt.

That wasn’t technically a lie. Dick had always been far better at physics.

Jason sighed and set his book down. “Alright. What do you need?”

He spent the next half hour talking an agitated Damian through the questions. He’d understood the relevant themes and literary devices in the book, Jason was glad to find, he was just annoyed with the characters and it took a little prodding and explanation to get him to see past that.

Honestly Jason couldn’t fault him for the reaction.

They finished the assignment, with each contrived and obvious line of questioning testing their patience. Jason flopped back into the welcoming embrace of the couch, opening his book as Damian stood up. 

When he didn’t immediately leave, however, Jason begrudgingly lowered his book once more.

“Something on your mind?” He tried to keep the exasperation out of his voice.

Damian was staring intently at the door. 

“Damian?” He leaned forward slightly, a small frown starting on his face.

Damian’s eyes flicked back toward him. “Something’s wrong with him,” he muttered.

Jason didn’t react. “I know,” he replied evenly.

“He’s been… flighty.” His youngest brother glared at him, daring him to make the obvious joke, but Jason stayed silent. “I don’t…” he stopped, turning his glare on the floor. “I don’t know how to help.” 

Jason swallowed carefully to buy himself time. For all that Damian presented himself as an equal in all ways, he was still a child, and a child with a remarkably lacking emotional education at that. Between the League and Bruce, he hadn’t stood a chance. Dick was the kid’s rock, the only one that had taken the time to even try with him, and Jason knew Damian looked to him as a guide for most things, even if he denied it.

He was even less equipped to handle this than Cass.

“Just… Just be there,” he said finally. “Make sure he knows you’re here for him, but don’t push him too hard.”

Damian squinted at him, and Jason held his gaze. He must have passed whatever test was going on in the kid’s head, though, because Damian nodded and walked away without another word.

Jason let his head fall back against the couch with an internal groan. He closed his eyes and rubbed his hands over his face with a huff.

Cass had told him to just talk to Dick, but that was proving to be harder than he’d thought. The man had been unavailable or missing every time he’d tried to catch him. 

When Jason dropped his hands again, Duke was still doing his homework, his knee bouncing along to whatever he was listening to. Jason stared longingly at his book, but dragged himself up. 

As he exited the library, he debated about where Dick was likely to be, deciding to check the gym first. He’d already peeked into the other man’s room before entering the library only to find the space empty, so he went to the next most likely place.

When he pushed the doors open, however, he found the room empty. Late afternoon light drifted in through the windows, painting the room golden. Jason let his eyes trail upwards, locking onto the acrobatic equipment Bruce had installed for a much younger Dick. Jason had spent hours on those bars when he’d first come to the Manor, trying to mimic Dick’s style and movement.

He could remember the handful of times Dick had joined him in here, stopping by to visit Alfred when he knew Bruce was out of town. Jason refused to admit it (though he figured his grin might have given him away), but he’d enjoyed the time they spent together in this room. Dick seemed free as he sailed through the air, gravity unable to touch him. He’d pull all sorts of shit, adding as much flair as he possibly could, but it never felt like he was showing off, just… showing. Sharing.

And Jason had always watched, no small amount of awe thrumming in his chest. It was like watching a bird jump from its perch on a building, only to soar over the city, and it was then that he’d truly understood  _ Robin. _

Dick would help him, too. He’d watch and correct and teach, and had it been any other area of training, Jason would’ve chafed, would’ve worried that he was falling behind and was about to be reprimanded for it. But he could see how much joy Dick had taken from passing on this knowledge, how happy he’d look when Jason successfully pulled off a move. And Dick’s joy was infectious. Jason had been able to truly relax with him in here, a respite from everything else in his life.

Jason was so used to surviving alone, to relying on no one else, but the first time Dick had caught his wrists in a routine, grip firm and secure and the only thing keeping him from falling, he’d known without a doubt that his brother wouldn’t drop him. That he could trust this one person for this one thing, if he could trust nothing else in the world.

Those days of simple joy and safety were long gone, though, and Jason hadn’t set foot in the room in years. He made one last sweeping glance, remembering the sound of flesh slapping against metal and Dick’s joyful breathless laughter before turning around and closing the door once more.

He meandered down the hall, hands in his pocket. Being back in the Manor was bringing up memories he hadn’t let himself think about in years, bringing with them feelings of nostalgia and… loss. 

But he’d already done his mourning for the life he’d lost. He wasn’t keen to repeat the experience.

Voices sounded from around the corner, so he blinked hard to focus back on the present and followed the noise.

He peeked his head around the wall, looking into the family room. Wayne Manor had an obscene number of rooms (something like three dining rooms and five goddamn lounges), but this was the one that no one but family used. It was tucked away enough that guests never wandered in during galas, and even in Jason’s Robin days, it was the one Bruce gravitated toward to just relax in. 

There was the lounge a few steps in from the front door that Bruce hosted reporters in, the one on the other side of the hallway that he entertained more intimate business gatherings in, the one outside the ballroom that was used during events, and the one with the portrait of Thomas and Martha Wayne that hung over the fireplace. The one that no one but Bruce and Alfred entered.

But this was the one that felt the most lived in. For all that the others were kept tidy and ostentatious to the point that it felt suffocating, this looked more like a place where people actually lived.

Currently, Tim and Cass were seated on the couch, feet tucked up underneath them and the tv playing what looked like  _ Wendy the Werewolf Stalker _ from its place on the wall. Jason leaned his head softly against the wall, watching her speak with friends in the halls of a high school for a moment. Just like on Sunday, Tim seemed more relaxed than he’d been last week. He was out of his room, for one thing, and looked to be decently sucked into the show.

Cass likewise seemed to be enjoying the show, though she might’ve just been enjoying the time with her younger brother.

They seemed to have things well in hand, actually relaxing for once in their goddamn lives, and Jason was on a mission, so he continued on past the room, Tim’s soft groan of what he assumed was second-hand embarrassment calling after him. Jason felt his lips turn up in an amused smile at the sound.

With Dick in neither of the most likely spots, he ventured into the kitchen. Just like with the lounges, there was the industrial kitchen that could fit a small army of chefs, but that was only used when catering was needed for events. Otherwise, they used the much smaller (though still bigger than some of Jason’s cheapest apartments) kitchen where Alfred cooked the rest of the time.

The smell of warm chocolate let Jason know that Alfred was there long before he stepped foot in the room. The elder man was bent at the waist when Jason entered, pulling a baking sheet out of the oven. Jason could see the chocolate and oatmeal bars that Alfred made on occasion as he set the pan down.

“Smells good, Alfie,” he said, leaning against the island counter.

“Thank you, Master Jason,” the Englishman replied, beginning to scoop the treats up and placing them on a nearby cooling rack.

“Don’t suppose you’d let me snatch one?” he joked, both of them knowing he would do no such thing.

Alfred turned to look at him briefly, fond amusement glittering in his eyes. “I should think not,” he replied, a hint of a reprimand coloring his words.

Jason clicked his tongue exaggeratedly. “Had to give it a shot.” He smiled softly. Even at his worst, when he’d been more than willing to hurt the rest of them, when he couldn’t even look at Bruce without green tinted rage creeping up on him, he’d never felt anything but love for Alfred. It had been hard to see him stand beside Bruce, but he could never bring himself to believe that the man hadn’t cared for him. Hadn’t mourned him.

He’d spent more time with him than anyone else after first coming to the Manor. Bruce had buried himself in work most of the time to avoid thinking about Dick, Dick had stayed away to avoid Bruce, and Alfred had stayed to pick up the pieces of a frightened child. Bruce had his moments of caring and being the kind of loving father Jason had never experienced before, but it had been so much harder to accept that at first than it had been to accept Alfred’s particular brand of care. He’d felt safe with Alfred almost from the start, while there were moments at the start where he couldn’t have said the same of Bruce.

Jason had never known any of his grandfathers, but he figured that was okay. He had Alfred, and that had always been more than enough.

“I suppose you’re here for something other than staring longingly at the baked goods?” Alfred said pointedly, eyebrow raising as he turned to look at him.

Jason let out a small chuckle. “I’m looking for Dick,” he said, sobering once more as Alfred’s amusement likewise fled. 

“Indeed,” he replied, turning to grab the powdered sugar, even though the bars wouldn’t be cooled enough for some time yet. “I’m afraid I haven’t seen him.”

“Yeah, you and me both,” Jason muttered under his breath. “Has he seemed… off to you?”

Alfred’s movements didn’t pause, but Jason could read the sigh he refused to let out in his body language. “Master Dick has been rather quiet as of late, and has not spent nearly as much time with his younger siblings as I would’ve expected.”

That fit right in with everything else he’d noticed himself and heard from the others, but didn’t get him any closer to an actual answer.

“Do you have any idea why?” he asked quietly, frowning at the man’s back.

“I couldn’t say.” He sounded regretful of that fact. “He’s said nothing to me.”

“Seems like he’s not saying anything to anyone lately,” Jason grumbled.

“He’s been in such a state since last week, though I can’t help but notice that this more extreme behavior began more recently,” Alfred pointed out deliberately, turning back toward him once more. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

Jason fought back the heat in his cheeks. “That… might’ve had something to do with me,” he admitted hesitantly. “Maybe.” Old enough to drink, die, and brutally take over Gotham’s criminal underbelly, and yet he still felt like a little kid the second Alfred used that tone on him.

Alfred’s eyebrow cocked up once more, silently demanding further explanation. 

Jason looked down at the island, frustrated. “I caught him when he was coming in a few days ago. Or rather he caught me,” Jason corrected. “I don’t know what I said, but he left looking even more exhausted than he already did. After that, everyone started coming up to me, telling me about how weird he was acting.”

Alfred hummed thoughtfully. Jason’s eyes shifted to the baked treats beside him, remembering suddenly that they had been Dick’s favorite when they were younger.

“Well then, Master Jason, it sounds like you’d better keep looking for him,” Alfred concluded.

Jason slumped a little bit. “Yeah,” he sighed, straightening up. The weather was nice enough that Dick might have gone outside to escape everyone, so he started to head toward the garden.

“And Master Jason,” Alfred called, causing Jason to turn around and face him. Alfred was holding out one of the bars, the powdered sugar melted a little by the still too warm surface. Alfred gave him a quick wink before moving away again and Jason’s lips quirked into a smile as he stared after the man for a moment.

He took a bite of the bar, enjoying the way it fell apart just a little, not yet fully set. The chocolate was gooey and almost too hot, but he loved it.

He  _ knew  _ Alfred had been letting him “sneak” cookies off the rack all these years.

He finished off the bar as he stepped outside, the breeze giving the day the perfect temperature. He could smell a faint floral scent on the breeze, enough to be pleasant but not overwhelming, but he didn’t see Dick. He looked out over the vast grounds, all the way to the treeline in the distance. It still boggled his mind that there was so much empty land up here. Thousands of people were crammed into shitty apartments downtown, not an inch of space wasted, and yet Gotham’s wealthy had room dedicated to nothing but grass.

It was beautiful, but it was wasteful. He remembered asking Bruce about it once, and found that he felt the same. Hell, he probably would have converted the whole damn space to housing or other outreach centers if not for the need to keep up appearances.

Jason also remembered Bruce confessing in a quiet tone that he couldn’t bear to touch the space. His mother had spent hours out here with him, both helping Alfred tend to the flora. 

His gaze moved from the trees to a gated off structure in the distance that he knew was the Wayne family cemetery. His own headstone was there, near Bruce’s parents.

Jason turned away from it, walking in the direction of the trees. There was a trail there that looped near the river. Dick may not have been in the gym, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t swinging through the trees, looking for a little bit of seclusion and fresh air. He kept his ears and eyes open as he walked down the neat dirt path. The trees towered around him, shading him from the still warm, though quickly fading, afternoon sun.

As he walked, the sun fell lower in the sky and there was still no sign of anyone but him. Which meant that if Dick was out here, he was purposefully staying away. Nonetheless, Jason crested the slight incline, reaching the end of the path that now curved back toward the house. He looked around, not seeing Dick on the bench or anywhere else.

He walked over to the bench, sitting down and pillowing his chin in his hand as he stared out across the valley below him.

Wayne Manor sat atop a hill on the other side of the river. They were just over a dozen miles from the river, and beyond that, the city rose up proudly. From here, it almost looked like any other city, skyscrapers dominating the skyline in the setting sunlight. Jason couldn’t make out the details of the gothic architecture he’d grown up surrounded by or the lower brick buildings that made up the majority of the city.

To his left, the sun dipped fully behind the clouds that had begun to roll in, only a thin strip of reddish gold shining on the horizon. It would likely rain, either tonight or early tomorrow. Today had been an odd respite from more characteristic weather, though nature looked to be correcting that in short time. 

He hoped the kids stuck out on the street had somewhere to spend the night.

The ones in Crime Alley knew where his shelters were, and every gangbanger in the goddamn city knew what would happen if they so much as  _ thought _ about fucking with them, but that still left the majority of people out in the cold.

Jason closed his eyes and hung his head, just letting himself feel the slight nip of the wind against his face and running through his hair. The trees rustled softly behind him and he let out a tired sigh.

He breathed in the scent of the trees, the hint of rain on the breeze. He couldn’t smell the stench of the city, the smoke and pollution in the air that choked newcomers on every other breath. There was no sound of sirens or guns or cars shattering the illusion of stillness. It was like another world entirely and Jason could understand, much as he hated it, why so many that could make a difference were so apathetic, so out of touch with the city they claimed as their own.

Bruce was an anomaly. He had both the ability and the drive to try and make a difference. He willingly threw himself into the city’s darkest reaches, no matter how many times it chewed him up and spit him back out. And when the sun rose, he would forcibly greenlight projects that helped circumvent the cycle of violence that so many people were forced to live in.

Jason thought he should get the man a “I Survived Gotham and All I Got Was This Hoard of Stupid Kids” t-shirt for his next birthday. Alfred might get a kick out of it, and it would definitely annoy Damian to be lumped in with the rest of them like that, which was a bonus.

He huffed out a small laugh at the thought, shaking his head as he stood. Tim was dead wrong if he thought that he or Bruce were anything like their peers (even if they discounted the fact that Tim had lived in the inner city with his father and gone to a less prestigious public school, so he really doubted if Tim could even really be counted in that category in the first place). He’d yet to come across any other person from old money that would even  _ consider  _ the amount of charity work they did with Wayne Industries, let alone put themselves in danger on a regular basis for the sole sake of helping others.

Well.

Besides Kate. 

But she was related to Bruce, so she didn’t count.

Jason turned back toward the trees, picking up a fallen leaf as he started down the last half of the path. He twisted it around absently between his fingers, watching it spin and blur. It wouldn’t be more than a month before they were changing and falling in earnest, though for now few touched the ground. He let the leaf drop from his fingertips, leaving it behind to flutter down to the dirt. With the fading light, the trees made the trail darker and he concentrated again on listening for Dick. He was almost positive he wasn’t out here, but it never hurt to pay attention to your surroundings, regardless of how safe you thought you might be.

He considered what to do next as he walked. The Manor was huge, and Dick could be hiding away in any number of seldom entered rooms. He’d lived in this house longer than any of them and had plenty of time to explore it at his leisure as a child; if he didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t be.

He was still running through a list of some areas he could check when he broke through the trees. The last bits of color had bled from the sky, leaving him behind in a gray semi-darkness. The iron walls of the cemetery once again crept into the edge of his vision, the bars seeming to reach further in the decreased light. It wasn’t like the place was intentionally creepy, like in shitty horror movies, but there was something disquieting in knowing that his name was somewhere in there, laying among the dead. Like a piece of him had never made it back.

While he knew that was almost certainly the case (that he hadn’t come back whole, that he’d lost something when he’d died), it wasn’t usually shoved in his face so poetically. So viscerally.

He’d never visited his gravesite. Never seen the engraving on his headstone. And if he had his way, he never would.

He hurried across the lawn, eyes never drifting away from the door ahead of him.

He closed it softly behind him once he crossed the threshold into the house once more. He rested his forehead heavily against the door for a moment. He was worn out, he had no damn clue where Dick might be, and he didn’t particularly care to go on a full blown manhunt right now. 

He straightened up and pushed himself away from the door, resigned to another night of worry simmering just beneath the surface. 

He began walking back toward the library, figuring he might as well pick up his book and spend the rest of the night in his bed, hopefully sleeping. Cass would shoot him a look over breakfast, but he was willing to accept that. He’d look for Dick tomorrow.

Duke was, surprisingly, still sitting at the table when Jason walked into the room. It looked like he was writing again, rather than working on homework still. The younger boy glanced up briefly as Jason strode across the room, shooting him a smile.

“I was wondering when you’d come back for that,” he quipped lightly as Jason grabbed his book off the arm of the couch.

“Thanks for safeguarding it,” Jason shot back, injecting as much sarcasm as he could into the statement.

“Oh any time,” Duke replied, an easy grin on his face. Jason shook his head, turning away so that Duke wouldn’t catch the corners of his lips curving upward.

“How’s that coming?” he asked after he’d composed himself, nodding toward the table.

Duke seemed pleased as he looked down at it briefly. “Good,” he answered. “It’s not done, but I like what I’ve got so far.”

Jason walked over, book in hand, to lean his hip against the edge of the table. “That’s good. Glad something’s going well for  _ one of us _ at least.” Duke’s eyes crinkled in silent amusement at the incredibly put upon tone Jason had used.

“Dick-hunting didn’t go well I take it?” he asked.

Jason choked down an unexpected laugh that instead escaped as a huff and Duke’s eyes widened slightly. “You know what I meant, asshole,” he grumbled, looking a little embarrassed.

“Language,” he chided exaggeratedly, grinning in the face of Duke’s incredulous glare.

“I can say it cause I’m older,” he countered arrogantly. He shoved lightly at Duke’s shoulder. “You’ve still got some growing to do before you can use big boy words.”

“As if you weren’t swearing when you were Damian’s age,” he scoffed.

“Oh, younger,” he corrected lightly, causing Duke to smile and shake his head at him. “And no,” he finally answered, “it didn’t.”

“Sorry,” Duke replied, leaning back in his chair.

“It’s fine. I’ll just have to find him tomorrow instead.” He stared at the grain of the wooden table for a long moment before turning his gaze back on Duke. “You ready for Friday?”

Duke’s eyes dropped for a split second before meeting his again. “Yeah,” he sighed. “As I’ll ever be.”

“Sorry you had to get dragged into all of this,” Jason apologized. It was bad enough that  _ he  _ had to go through the motions, let alone everyone else being forced to do the same.

Duke shrugged. “If it wasn’t now, it would’ve happened later. At least this way I’ll have the rest of you, instead of getting stuck with no one to talk to.”

Jason thought again of Tim, wondered how many times he’d been through exactly that.

“Point,” he conceded, tipping his head in the other’s direction. He allowed his eyes to trace the spines lining the bookshelves behind Duke. “You can come get me if anything happens, you know that right?”

“Yeah, I know.” Duke sounded fond, and when Jason looked back at him, the newest of his brothers was smiling up at him. It made something in his chest tighten to be the focus of that trusting gaze, like Duke knew with every bone in his body that he could rely on Jason to be there for him. 

Jason had never had anyone look at him like that before. Street kids were generally either distrusting or looked at him with something like hero worship in their eyes (he was always quick to address those ones, to make sure they didn’t do anything stupid, like try to become a vigilante). Damian would never stoop so low as to blatantly show that he trusted someone, and, more importantly, didn’t respect him enough to even have the desire to. Tim, and even Stephanie, had seen Jason at his worst far too many times to ever look at him like that, and Cass really wasn’t that much younger than him in the first place. Certainly not enough to ever look up to him in any way except physically.

But here was Duke, staring at him like Jason imagined normal younger siblings would look at an older brother. He wasn’t sure if that’s how Duke actually saw him, but it was closer than anything else he could think of.

He was looking at Jason the way Jason used to look at a grinning, upside down Dick, right before he jumped off the platform of the trapeze.

“Good,” he replied, a beat late. He pushed himself away from the table. “Later,” he called over his shoulder as he retreated.

“See you,” Duke called back, still sounding a little too amused for Jason’s tastes.

Jason left the library, heading for the staircase at the front of the house. As he passed the family room, he saw that Tim and Cass were still there. He walked past them again, but made note of the way that Tim was leaning into her side, his smile calm and content.

He climbed the stairs quietly, and turned in the direction of his room once he reached the top of the nearly twelve foot monstrosity.

A few steps before he reached his destination, he heard a soft noise from up ahead.

He felt his face slip into a frown. Bruce had been down in the Cave all day, and Alfred would’ve gone back down to help him by now. He didn’t know where Damian was, but the kid’s bedroom was behind him, he’d have no reason to be further down the hall.

He was certain that Dick’s room had been empty earlier, and wouldn’t expect anyone to be in there at this time of day, but the closer he crept, the more sure he was that the noise had come from there.

He knocked quietly on the door as he pushed it open, but when he poked his head in and looked around the dim room, he still didn’t see anyone. The bed was unmade, the same as the last time he’d looked; the rest of the room was almost pristine.

He’d only been in here a handful of times, including early that day. He was far more familiar with Dick’s apartment, but there really wasn’t anywhere someone could have been hiding other than the bathroom and closet, both of which had the lights off. He didn’t think either Dick or Damian would resort to sitting in there in the dark with the door closed. 

Then again, he knew he’d heard something, so he opened the door more fully and walked into the room. 

A quiet sigh from behind had him flipping around immediately, only to find Dick on the floor, in the space between the door and the desk with his back against the wall.

Dick was folded up so tightly that he almost blended into the shadows. He wasn’t sticking out far enough for Jason to have seen him from the doorway, perfectly in his blindspot.

“What are you doing?” he asked, confused.

Dick’s chin was propped on his arms, which in turn were resting atop his knees. His hair was mussed, eyes tired. His face was the only stretch of skin he could see of the man, the rest of it hidden underneath a thick, baggy hoodie and dark sweatpants.

Dick nodded to something behind Jason. He turned to look.

A Flying Graysons poster was displayed proudly on the opposite wall. The light spilling in from the hallway just barely caught the bright colors, leaving them muted. 

“Ah,” he said awkwardly. Fuck, it wasn’t the anniversary, was it? No, that was months ago. But that didn’t mean Dick couldn’t be struggling with it. Was that it? Was it really that simple?

“Did you need anything?” Dick asked kindly, his voice cutting through Jason’s thoughts. But he sounded worn out, even more so than the last time they’d talked.

No. There was more.

Now that he finally had Dick in front of him, though, Jason panicked. He’d convinced himself that he wouldn’t be talking to Dick today, had been so close to his room where he could just relax for a while, take his mind off of all the problems that suddenly defined his life. As stupid as it was, he wasn’t ready to suddenly be confronted with the very man he’d spent the last hour and a half looking for. He didn’t know what to say.

“I think I fucked up,” he blurted out.

Dick blinked, a light frown forming on his face. “What do you mean?”

“I- Look, I-” Jason forced himself to stop and take a steadying breath. “Okay. Let me start over,” he continued with a more even tone.

Dick stared at him, waiting with eyebrows raised.

“Last time we talked,” he clarified. “I said something that upset you, and it feels like you’ve been avoiding me since.”

Dick seemed to huddle further into his hoodie without actually moving. “You didn’t upset me.”

It was Jason’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Then why did you freeze up and pull away?”

“I thought you didn’t even like me touching you?” Dick countered. “I thought you’d be glad to have some space.”

_ “Dick,” _ Jason pleaded. He knew exactly what Dick was trying to do, and he wasn’t going to take the bait. “Please. I’m asking, okay? This is me asking. What’s going on?”

Dick just watched him. He stood uncomfortably in the middle of the room, not sure what to do.

Something in Dick’s face seemed to crumple, but within a second it was gone. “It’s nothing,” he murmured. “I’m just not looking forward to the gala.”

Jason moved forward carefully. He sat down in front of Dick, scooting into the space between him and the desk, shoulder to shoulder now.

This was what they’d been talking about last week. He had to be more careful this time. 

“Anything in particular?” he asked.

Dick huffed out a laugh. “The whole thing?”

Jason’s lips twitched into the barest hint of a smile. “I’m with you on that one.”

A soft thump came from next to him and Jason looked over to see Dick’s head leaned back against the wall.

“I hate these things so fucking much,” Dick whispered under his breath.

Jason bit the inside of his lip, wondering if he should ask. He’d been so sure for years that the answer was no, but… 

“Dick?”

Dick hummed.

“Did people ever… I don’t know, did they talk… about you?” he asked haltingly, cursing himself. He couldn’t just come out and ask  _ Were they disgusting racist pigs to you too? _ but surely he could come up with something better than  _ that. _

Dick didn’t move. “Lots of people talk about me, Jay.” 

“I mean like- people used to talk about me like I was just some puppy Bruce had taken home to show off. They never… they didn’t pull shit like that with you, did they?”

Dick was smiling now, but it was bitter. Sharp. “Of course they did. You really think they accepted a circus brat that was more likely to climb the walls than social ladders with open arms?” Dick asked incredulously. “Hell, half the time they were convinced I was going to steal their money right out of their pockets,” he muttered bitterly, before huffing out a weary breath. “They mostly dropped it as I got older, moved on to other things… but when Bruce first took me in…” Dick stopped, his jaw tense as he swallowed thickly. “At least he adopted you. That implies that he wanted you to stick around.”

Jason closed his eyes. He felt like a complete moron. Just because the press loved Richard Grayson, didn’t mean the socialites did. He was still an outsider, a  _ foreigner, _ just as much as Jason was.

“That’s why you haven’t made an appearance since Bruce took me in,” Jason deduced heavily, eyes open once more to watch his brother’s face.

The tight, fake smile was back. “Bingo.”

Jason sighed, shoving his head against the wall harder than Dick had. “How come you never said anything? After the shit I said to you?”

“Because it doesn’t matter. You were right, I’m used to it. I’m more worried about you guys. I’m not going to give them the chance to go for you  _ or  _ the others.”

“And who’s gonna be looking out for you?” Jason demanded. Looking out for the others was all well and good, but he hadn’t meant that Dick needed to take on everything alone.

Dick shook his head. “Just help me keep an eye on them. I can take care of myself, you know that.” With that, he rose gracefully to feet, already moving toward the door.

“Wait, Dick,” Jason called desperately, rolling to his knees to follow.

“I’ll be fine, Jay,” he promised softly, gaze forward. “I’ve done this a hundred times, remember?” He walked out of the room without looking back, leaving Jason half risen off the floor.

It took everything he had in him not to drive his fist into the wall.

He knew the answer was right there. Regardless of everything else he’d just learned, there was something else that Dick was holding back. 

And just as he’d thought that maybe he was getting somewhere, he ran headfirst into a brick wall that had been there waiting for him the whole time.


	5. Chapter 5

He’d doubled his efforts to talk to Dick again, knowing that if he could just get the older man to tell him what the _hell_ was going on in his head it would make everything so much easier, but if Dick _hadn’t_ been avoiding him already, he sure as hell was now. Jason hadn’t even seen him at meals. 

When he walked into Jason’s room on Friday, a few minutes before they needed to leave for the gala, it was the first time he’d seen his brother since their brief talk and he bore almost no resemblance to the man Jason had sat beside just days before. His crisp white shirt stood out well against his darker skin and offset the black of the suit.

If Jason hadn’t watched him slowly sink deeper into exhaustion over the past two weeks, he honestly wouldn’t have thought anything was wrong looking at him now.

Dick had always cleaned up rather well, he supposed.

He sat down lightly on the vanity as Jason dealt with his tie in front of the mirror. “I’ll keep an eye on Damian and Cass if you want to watch out for Tim and Duke,” he offered without preamble. As if he hadn’t found the man hiding away in the dark, curled up alone on the floor.

Jason’s eyes flicked over to him briefly and his fingers fumbled the knot.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, undoing his work. “Sounds good,” he said louder, a tinge of frustration in his voice as he started over.

He remembered his first gala, soon after his adoption. Dick had come back for an appearance, the last one he’d ever done. The teen had spent the whole day glaring at Bruce and avoiding him, but as they’d waited for Bruce in the hallway, he’d silently fixed Jason’s tie. 

He had practiced with Alfred for days trying to get the movements down, but he’d known it was crooked even as he left his room. His face had heated up at the correction, and he’d waited for Dick to mock him for it, or point it out to Bruce as evidence that Jason didn’t measure up, but Dick hadn’t said anything about it at all.

Now, Dick just watched his practiced movements, not moving to help him.

“If you feel like it’s getting to be too much, and you need a break before you break someone’s nose, come find me or Bruce,” Dick added in a quieter tone. “It won’t look out of place if someone notices, and we can cover for you.”

It was basically the same plan Bruce had laid out for him before that first evening, something they both knew but chose not to bring up.

“And if _you_ need a breather,” Jason threw back firmly, finally getting the damn knot right, “use me as an out, got it?” He was leagues better at it now than he had been at 13, but he was still more comfortable with tying for function, not beauty.

It didn’t matter how pretty his knots looked as long as no one could undo them.

Dick’s lips quirked up, but he didn’t respond otherwise. It wasn’t anything out of character for his older brother (Robin’s characteristic impishness had started with him, after all), but now that Jason was looking, he wondered how much Dick actually hid behind that silence.

Dick continued to sit there quietly as Jason lightly ran product through his hair. The late summer air had been humid enough that day to give him a slight frizz and he was _not_ going to give those smug rich _assholes_ anything to pick him apart for if he could help it.

He leaned back to fully check his work, watching Dick out of the corner of his eye as he hopped down to the floor. He smoothed out his suit and straightened the bowtie around his neck.

“Ready?” he asked, already moving toward the door.

Jason sighed. “As I’ll ever be,” he grumbled under his breath, turning off the light and following.

* * *

An hour into the torture that was high society events and Jason was almost ready to put a hit out on himself just to get out of the rest of it. 

He’d lost sight of everyone besides Tim within the first twenty minutes. He’d promised himself that he wouldn’t leave the kid alone, though, and thus far it had gone well. Timothy Wayne was definitely the most experienced in dealing with the media, so it wasn’t like it was a stretch for the newly returned Jason Todd-Wayne, who was now famously uncomfortable with attention, to stick by his side and let him handle everything. He tried not to put too much on Tim and bailed them out of more conversations than not, though.

He also made note every time Duke wandered into his peripheral. He looked to be sticking close to Cass, and the last time he’d seen the two, they were over by the wall closest to the food tables.

He was worried about the fact that he hadn’t seen Dick at all, even in passing. If he knew the man, he’d be sticking close to Damian, and Jason hadn’t seen him either, but he couldn’t stop the underlying anxiousness that was building within him. He was about to call it and just flat out suggest to Tim that they go looking for their errant brothers, for Jason’s peace of mind if nothing else, but before he could open his mouth, a man in an expensive looking suit walked up to them, a beautiful woman in glittering jewelry hanging off his arm. Jason threw on a smile that was hesitant, though not to the point of offense, as Tim greeted them.

“Mr. Benoit, how are you?”

“Please, Timothy, call me Josh,” he insisted, shaking Tim’s hand. Tim smiled indulgently and said nothing about preferring to be called Tim. Jason wondered, not for the first time that night, if this was one of the ways Tim separated his masks. Timothy was not the same as Timmy, Timmy was different from Red Robin, and none of them were Tim.

“Of course,” Tim agreed coolly. “And you’re looking lovely, Mrs. Benoit,” he continued, inclining his head toward the woman.

“Marie,” she smiled, sounding amused.

Tim gestured toward Jason in a practiced movement. “And I’m sure you know Jason.”

The man stuck out his hand again and Jason took it, making sure his grip wasn’t too firm or confident.

“Ah, of course,” Josh exclaimed. “The man of the hour!”

Jason let out a small chuckle. “I wouldn’t say that,” he countered. “We’re all here to help the outreach programs. I’m just one of many.”

“Oh, of _course,”_ Josh replied knowingly, and Jason’s temper flared. “After all, what would the underprivileged of this city do without events like this?”

Jason smiled through his annoyance. “Well I can say for sure that the money’s all going to a good place. A lot of people will benefit from it.”

“You must be so happy to be back with your family,” Marie cut in, voice melodic and almost pleasant. “It must’ve been so hard to live out in the city all alone, not even knowing what you’d lost.”

“It wasn’t all bad,” Jason assured her truthfully, “but I _am_ glad to be back with everyone.”

Tim’s hand landed lightly against his shoulder blade. “And we’re glad to have you back.”

The four of them shared a short smile before Josh spoke again. “What job was it that you were working again, Jason?”

“I was with a construction company,” Jason responded lightly, hand gripping his drink just a little tighter. He’d been undercover for months, trying to root out a drug ring that was peddling a little too close to _multiple_ schools for his tastes. He’d gotten a tip that one of the supervisors at the company was in on it and took his time following the operation all the way up the chain. He’d taken the whole operation down just three days before the news about him broke. He’d been planning on putting in his two weeks notice the next week, actually. He’d grown to like most of the people he worked with, and didn’t mind staying a little longer to make sure no one connected one of their bosses going to prison with John Peters quitting. 

Thankfully, it also made his amnesia story a lot easier to sell to the press, since he’d had a whole cover already in place.

“Mmm, you’re a braver man than I,” Josh joked, eyebrows raised. “I’m definitely a desk job kind of guy.”

Jason smiled. “It’s really not that bad of work when you get down to it, especially when you’ve got good company.” _Better company than you assholes._

Marie seemed politely put off by the thought, and Josh looked a hair’s breadth away from outright smirking at him.

What Jason wouldn’t give to smack that arrogant, smug, patronizing look off his face.

“That’s good,” Josh said. “We need guys like you, Jason. A real man of the people,” he smiled, raising his glass slightly as if in toast.

Jason smiled back graciously, shoving down every retort and scathing remark about how he was glad to fit the bill, because the world really didn’t need anymore people like _him._

“He’s certainly brought a lot of things to our attention that we wouldn’t have known about otherwise,” Tim agreed. “As much as we try, we still need to actually listen to the people we’re helping. No one knows what they need more than them, after all.”

“Here here,” Josh agreed politely but Jason could tell he didn’t actually share that particular sentiment, which was pretty much typical.

He absently wondered how long he’d have to play the shy, overwhelmed amnesiac before he could get away with showing his disdain on occasion.

“How are things with your company?” Tim asked, taking a sip of water. 

“Oh just fine,” Josh assured him, and here came the business portion of the conversation. Jason listened close enough to bail Tim out again if it started shifting from tedious to concerning, but otherwise allowed his gaze, and attention, to wander. When a small group moved out into the hallway, Jason caught sight of Duke again, though instead of Cassandra, he had Damian at his side. The shorter of the two was glaring daggers into his cup and Jason couldn’t help but sympathize with him. At least the little old ladies weren’t trying to pinch his _darling little cheeks_ anymore, which he was sure was one of the causes for their youngest’s foul mood if the slight redness in his face was any indication.

Duke caught his gaze and smiled amusedly at him, raising an eyebrow as he flicked his eyes toward the couple in front of him. Jason rolled his eyes as subtly as possible before taking a drink of his champagne to hide his expression. When he looked back, Duke’s smile was wider and he looked to be holding down a laugh, which caused Damian to look up at him, brow furrowed. 

Jason looked away from the impending doom Duke had brought upon himself, focusing once more on the droning conversation happening next him.

“And how are things with that foundation of yours?” Josh asked.

“It’s going well,” Tim said, his face a little more lively at the turn in topic. “We just opened a youth shelter down in the Narrows.”

“And you’re healing well?” Marie interjected, concern on her arched features. “I remember hearing about that _awful_ attack at the community center you helped open in March.”

Tim smiled reassuringly, though Jason could make out the annoyance and wariness in his expression. “I’m fine, thank you for asking. I had the best doctors money could buy, and I’ve healed quite well since then. I hardly even have trouble walking around anymore, just the occasional ache.”

“It’s so terrible,” she commiserated. “I just never feel safe anymore. Between what happened to you and to your _father’s_ parents as well, bless their poor souls… It’s why I could _never_ live in the city like you did,” she said, turning her sad gaze onto Jason.

She probably _would_ be robbed within ten minutes of setting foot in Crime Alley, Jason thought. “Well, at the time I didn’t have much money, so I really wasn’t much of a target,” he pointed out.

“And things _are_ getting better,” Tim added gently. “A lot of people are working to offer alternatives to a life of crime, and the crime rate has lowered substantially over the past few years.”

“Would you agree, Jason?” Josh threw in.

Jason raised his eyebrows, wary at being addressed so pointedly. “I… suppose?” He didn’t necessarily mean for it to sound like a question, but some of his caution slipped into his voice.

“Well you were living there just recently, and you grew up in that part of town too, didn’t you? If I recall, you even stole poor Bruce’s tires,” he said with a laugh, like it had been a game for a rebellious youth and not Jason desperately trying to scrounge up enough money to eat at some point that week. “Have things really changed that much since then?”

Jason carefully counted to ten under the guise of pondering the question. At his side, Tim’s arm brushed against his. “Well I still had to lock my door at night, but I never had anyone try to mug me, so I guess I’d agree.” 

“No one tried to _sell_ you anything or get you to join any gangs?” Josh pressed jokingly, and Marie let out a small laugh.

_Would you ask me that if my skin was lighter, cabrón?_

“No offers yet,” he smiled back sharply.

Beside him, Tim’s face lightened up exaggeratedly. “I’m sorry to cut this short,” he began apologetically, “but I think I just saw Bruce waving us down. Wouldn’t want to keep him waiting too long.”

“Oh it’s fine,” Josh dismissed easily. “It was good to see you both. Stay safe out there,” he added solemnly, before his face broke out in another grin. Marie smiled up at him, shaking her head lightly as the two walked away.

Tim led Jason in the opposite direction. Neither of them said anything until they were on the far side of the room, away from a majority of the crowds. 

“You looked like you were five seconds from punching him,” Tim explained bluntly. 

Jason threw back the rest of his champagne like it was a shot of whiskey, ignoring the scandalized look from one of the older ladies nearby, who promptly moved away. “Guy’s kind of an asshole,” he stated, an edge in his voice that he couldn’t quite bring himself to hide.

Tim didn’t verbally agree, but he didn’t look like he disagreed either.

 _Damn it._ Damn it, he’d been doing so well! Sure, he’d hated every second of meaningless posturing these idiots had been subjecting him too, but he’d sucked it up and played his role well. And then came Benoit, who managed to press almost every button Jason had, and there was nothing he could do about it without causing a scene. 

He blew out a steading breath. “How’re you holding up?” he asked Tim, turning the focus away from himself.

Tim blinked back at him. “Fine. No one really wants to talk shop with you around, so thanks for that I guess,” he pointed out ruefully, a wry grin spreading across his face.

Jason raised an unimpressed eyebrow, hiding his own amusement. “Happy to be of service,” he replied dryly.

Tim rolled his eyes. “Seriously though, I’m fine. You’re enough of a wild card that most of them aren’t going to risk saying anything too…” Tim paused briefly. _“Risqué,”_ he decided, “with you around.”

“Damn right,” Jason muttered. They had no idea what he was like after so many years living amongst the rabble, something he took immense pleasure in. They were also right to assume Jason would punch their lights out if they even _hinted_ at some of the more obscene things they’d subjected Tim to before.

Jason looked around again, trying to assuage the bone-deep discomfort that was building inside him. Damian and Duke had apparently split up again, because he could see the little gremlin standing next to Bruce, still looking unhappy but hiding it enough that none of the adults would notice. All of their attention was focused on their precious _Brucie._ For his part, Bruce looked completely at ease, even though Jason knew how much he hated these things.

A little further off, he could see Duke still in the same spot, Cass back at his side. She must have been in the bathroom or something before, he guessed. As his eyes drifted away, he noticed a man approaching the two from behind. He wouldn’t have given it a second thought since they were near food, but he recognized the man.

Hyrum Kline.

Jason immediately made a beeline for the tables, Tim scrambling after him with as dignified an air as he could.

Hyrum Kline was the first, and only, socialite Jason had ever gotten into an altercation with, eight months after his adoption.

He was the one man stupid enough to say to his face that Bruce took Jason in as a personal prostitute.

And he was heading right for Duke and Cass.

“Does he come to these things a lot?” he demanded quietly.

Tim took a moment to think as they slid effortlessly between bodies, but when he spoke, his voice was just as urgent. “I don’t think so. He looks familiar, but I’ve never spoken to him.”

Little blessings, Jason mused darkly.

“Who is he?” Tim shot back, narrowly missing the backside of a man whose suit looked more expensive than Jason’s monthly rent.

“Trouble,” Jason muttered, putting on a little extra speed as he closed in.

Kline beat him there, saying something Jason was too far away to hear over the din as Duke and Cass turned to face him. 

“Such a lovely _suit,”_ he could faintly hear a moment later. The emphasis was so slight that it could pass by innocuously.

“Thank you,” Cass responded politely. She was watching the man, though, and Jason knew she had seen something in his body that tipped her off to the insincerity in his statement.

“Yeah, she can outdress all of us when she puts her mind to it,” Duke added, valiantly trying to draw the attention away from his older sister.

“Is that so?” Kline responded, the barest hint of a sneer in his voice. Jason made his last few steps light, composing himself.

“There you two are,” he called, and all three heads turned toward him. “Oh,” he added, as if he’d just noticed Kline. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Kline’s eyes widened a fraction.

Good. 

He remembered him.

“It’s no problem,” Kline assured him, looking more cautious now. “I was just complimenting them on their attire.”

Tim stepped up at his side, seamlessly inserting himself into the conversation as well. “Bruce would never let us show up in anything less than our best.”

Kline’s eyes flicked to Tim and something in his expression shifted again. “Oh, I’m sure.” He looked back toward Cass. “No dress, though?” he inquired casually.

“No,” Cass responded succinctly.

After a moment of silence, Kline laughed. “I’m sure you’d look beautiful in one.”

“I did not want to wear one tonight,” she stated calmly. The way she held herself as she spoke made Jason think there was more to that statement than he knew, but that would have to wait its turn.

“Sorry to cut this short, but we need to borrow them.” 

Kline met his eyes and Jason could see the brief debate the man was having. Jason stared back unflinchingly, eyes narrowing just enough to show Kline that he did, in fact, recognize him too. 

“Of course,” Kline said, inclining his head graciously. “Another time, then,” he offered to Duke and Cass, before smiling thinly and turning away.

“What was that about?” Duke asked quietly, staring after the retreating figure as he was swallowed into the crowd.

“Notice the scar at the edge of his eyebrow?” Jason asked, crossing his arms and joining Duke in watching him go. “I gave him that when I was 13.”

No one responded, and when he finally turned back toward them, satisfied that Kline had read the intended threat in his eyes and responded appropriately, they were all looking at him. Tim’s eyebrow was raised.

He rolled his eyes, consciously untensing his shoulders as he dropped back into the more relaxed stance he’d adopted for the night. “I wasn’t nearly this civil in my youth,” he explained loftily.

“You’re civil?” Duke said dryly.

Jason glared at him. “I may have changed since then, but my life motto is still ‘talk shit, get hit,’ kid.”

“And he talked shit?” Tim guessed evenly, cutting straight through Jason’s attempted deflection. 

Jason turned his glare toward the wall, actual ire now darkening his gaze.

“Dude, what did he _say?”_ Duke asked incredulously, leaning around Jason as if to seek him out again.

“Nothing that bears repeating,” Jason glared, stepping pointedly to the side to block Duke’s view. He tensed when he felt someone’s hand on his arm, but forced himself to relax again when he saw that the hand belonged to Cassandra.

“You do not need to say,” she assured him, and behind her, Duke was nodding, looking a little regretful.

Jason took in a quick deep breath, blowing it out and smiling back at her tightly as she allowed her hand to return to her side. He really did appreciate the gesture.

“It’s fine,” he insisted, meeting Duke’s eyes. “Dude’s just a creep.”

“Noted,” Duke said, smiling up at him sheepishly.

Jason sighed again, trying to push away the lingering fear that had spiked at seeing Kline set his sights on his younger siblings. He did _not_ want to think about why the man had focused on Cass, even if he was pretty sure he already knew the reason.

 _God._ He’d specifically been keeping an eye out for people like him all night. When he didn’t have eyes on his family, he’d looked for faces he remembered as belonging to exceptionally horrible people. He’d only spotted a few throughout the night, though none that came anywhere near Kline’s level, and had surreptitiously tracked them, maneuvering himself and Tim between them and the others as necessary so that if they tried to approach, he could intercept them. He was appalled that Kline had managed to get past him, but felt justified in blaming Benoit for the slip.

He scowled down at the flute in his hand again, wishing it was full. He’d already had two glasses in the past hour though, and any more would be pushing his luck. As it was, he wasn’t feeling any effects, and he knew he needed to keep it that way, so he mournfully looked around for a glass of water instead. 

Beside him, Tim seemed to recognize the problem and huffed softly in amusement. Without looking, he smacked the little shit’s arm, prompting a barely audible grunt and stumble.

Jason didn’t even try to stop his responding smile.

It was short lived however, and slipped right off his face as he froze. 

Across the room, Jason spotted Dick for the first time that night. He was being crowded with his back to the wall, a blonde woman pressed up against him. Even from this distance, Jason could see the subtle signs of resignation in his face. The woman leaned back a little, grabbing Dick’s hand and pulling him along behind her. As she turned, Jason caught sight of her face and narrowed his eyes.

Cara Metzi was by far the worst person Jason had ever met at one of these hell gatherings. Where Kline was horrible for his forwardness and open prejudice, Metzi was all the worse because she was subtle.

She was also manipulative and ruthless, using her good looks, charm, and money to make connections. She used people like stepping stools, furthering her own agenda and leaving everyone else in the dust. From what he knew of Janet Drake, Metzi could have been her younger twin personality-wise. Jason had even heard her name tossed around in the circles he ran as the Red Hood, though there had never been any sort of solid connection between her and the families. He’d had his eye on her all night, always keeping her at the edge of his vision.

She’d just turned 20 when Bruce had adopted him, and he remembered the way she’d hung around him. Every event he’d gone to, she was there, hanging around him with any number of other sycophants. She’d been one of the few who actually saw him, though.

While people like Kline were overt in their distaste for the trash Bruce had collected, Metzi had supplied a cold and calculating gaze. She’d talked to him, on occasion, and always had a smile for him, even if it was obvious to him that she was trying to hide its sharpness. He’d felt vaguely disquieted after every exchange, and the way she always looked him up and down made him feel like he was an asset being assessed.

While he’d been certain that she shared the others' disdain for him, she was smart enough to look past it. It had almost felt like battling Riddler. The clues were there and something more was always lurking just under the surface, but he’d died before getting to the bottom of it.

He’d never brought it to Bruce’s attention, feeling stupid every time he thought about it.He hadn’t wanted to be accused of being distracted by a pretty face that paid a modecrum of attention to him. At the end of the day, she was just another person that wanted to get in on Bruce’s wealth, even if she was a bit more resourceful and gorgeous than the others, in his expert prepubescent opinion.

There was no doubt in his mind now. She was a real bombshell and she knew it, but Jason knew for a fact that she was also _dangerous._

And in the few minutes that had passed since the Benoits had nearly made him lose reign of his temper, she’d apparently set her sights on Dick.

Jason took off immediately, slamming his empty glass down on a nearby table none too gently.

A hand shot out and grabbed his arm, tugging him back. He whipped around, barely holding back the violent words that wanted to leave his lips as he ripped his arm out of the hold.

Tim let his hand fall back to his side but stared determinedly at him.

“What happened?” he demanded softly.

“Stay here,” he snapped, turning away again.

Tim’s hand was back in an instant, grip almost bruising, and Jason turned fully to shove him back into Duke, who caught the older teenager. Duke’s eyes were wide, and a little thrill of grief shot through Jason at the look.

 _“Jason!”_ Tim hissed quietly, barely even acknowledging the rough handling. His eyes were intense as they stared straight into him. “Will you quit acting like a _jackass_ and _talk to me?”_

Jason looked behind him agitated. The longer he spent here, the further away Metzi and Dick would get and he couldn’t afford to lose them.

“Just _trust me_ on this,” he pleaded, quick and forceful. If this went anywhere near where he feared it might, he didn’t want any of them to have to see that. “I saw something I need to check on alone. Just stick together and if I need any help, I’ll fucking text okay, just _stay here,”_ he barked out sharply. 

None of them looked the slightest bit cowed or impressed, but they seemed to recognize how serious he was about this, and when he moved away again, they didn’t follow.

As he jogged swiftly through the crowd, he made a mental note to apologize after the night was over. He felt like shit treating them that way, and he knew that none of them appreciated being sidelined without explanation like it was their first day on the job (and the implication that he’d turned into Bruce in this scenario was something that would keep him up at night, he just _knew_ it), but he needed to move fast and he needed to move _now._ Between the way Dick had been acting and what he knew of Metzi, his heart was pounding the longer they remained out of sight. He didn’t know exactly what was going on or where it would lead, but he had the distinct feeling that neither he nor Dick would want their younger siblings anywhere near it.

He nearly skidded into the hall, head turning frantically as he looked around for a sign of the duo. More than a few people stumbled away from him, and a few startled exclamations registered in his ears, but he ignored them all.

_There!_

He immediately took off again at a quick walk, following the swish of a black dress as it turned the corner. He internally seethed, wondering what possible reason there was for making this hallway so goddamn _long._

When he reached the end, there was another intersection. Left led back to the central ballroom he’d just come out of and he could see a few people milling about further down. To his right, the hallway was empty. He hesitated for a moment in indecision before turning right.

If they went left, then they were around people, which limited what could happen. This hallway seemed to be void of life, which was far more concerning. Whatever was going on, if they were down there that meant there would be significantly less people to see it.

He moved methodically down the hall, steps silent and listening carefully as he passed each door. He was almost to the end of the hallway and panicking slightly when he finally heard a noise. It was coming from the next room down and he padded over silently, almost wishing for the familiar weight of a gun in his hand. 

He opened the door quietly, not wanting to give up the element of surprise without at least checking the situation. He jumped at the sight that greeted him, though, making the caution useless.

Dick was flat on his back on one of the tables, Cara’s hand on his chest. His jacket was gone and his shirt was half unbuttoned, allowing her to touch bare skin. She was pressed close to him, leaning forward between his spread legs and putting them almost chest-to-chest. Her other hand tangled in his hair as she kissed him, and Jason could hear his breath hitch as he tilted his head away, their lips disconnecting.

Jason’s first response was mortification. 

Holy _shit_ had he misread the situation, and now he had to live with the image of his older brother speedrunning his way to second base with a woman that had been making eyes at their dad for the past decade. He almost slammed the door shut, just to get away from what he’d accidentally walked in on, but through the haze of horrified embarrassment, his eyes locked onto Dick’s face and the pieces all came together.

Dick cutting himself off from everyone after their conversation, after Jason made him promise to take the brunt of the attention at the gala.

Dick’s look of resignation as Metzi led him away.

Dick’s breath hitching in a way that Jason now recognized as fear, not lust.

The fear that Jason could now plainly see on his brother’s face as their eyes locked, Metzi unaware of her audience and turning her attention to his neck instead.

_They moved on to other things._

A neatly packaged statement, added almost as an afterthought, that completely hid the ugly truth. He’d thought that meant they’d moved their efforts onto harassing other people when his novelty as Bruce’s ward eventually wore off.

He never thought Dick had meant _this._

 _“Get. Off,”_ he growled.

Cara looked startled for just a moment as she jerked away from Dick, her head whipping toward the door.

“Oh,” she breathed, eyes wide. “W-well, this is-”

“Get out,” Jason ordered darkly, letting anger color his voice and inform her of the danger she was in.

Dick was completely still beneath her.

Indignation crossed her features, but Jason took a heavy step forward, letting the darkness of the room cast a shadow over his face and she wilted. 

She was ambitious, not stupid. She pushed herself up and quickly slipped past him, not saying another word.

Jason listened to her footsteps fade to nothing and hoped that she was smart enough to go home.

Dick still hadn’t moved.

 _Oh God._ He didn’t know how to handle this.

He closed the door softly behind him, letting Dick hide in the semi-darkness. A street lamp outside illuminated the room enough to see by. He took a careful step forward, all the menace in his stance now gone.

“Dick?” he called quietly.

“Why did you follow me?” His painfully hollow words were interrupted by the shakiness of his voice.

“I-” Jason whispered, not knowing how to respond. “I was afraid,” he admitted.

Dick pushed himself up and even in the dark, Jason could see how empty his gaze was as Dick looked at the floor.

“I told you I can take care of myself.”

Jason swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Didn’t look that way to me,” he replied, regretting the words even before Dick’s head wrenched up, empty gaze now fuming. 

“Shut the _fuck_ up,” he snapped, shoving away from the table and pacing the few steps to the other side of the room, standing rigidly and facing the wall.

Jason’s heart was pounding in his ears and his mind begged him to listen, to just _shut up_ and _leave_ and never bring this up again, but he couldn’t make himself move and he couldn’t hold back the words.

“Dick, you looked like she hit you with Scarecrow’s toxin, that’s not _handling things,”_ he protested.

“I knew what I was doing.” There was an edge to Dick’s voice, every bit as dangerous as Jason had sounded not two minutes earlier.

“If you knew what you were doing, you wouldn’t have-” Jason stopped himself, taking a moment to just _think._ “You knew exactly what kind of person she is. What she wanted,” Jason accused slowly, eyes narrowing at his brother’s back.

“Of course I _knew,_ Jason!” Dick yelled, turning back toward him furiously. “She didn’t just pop out of nowhere the second you came around! I knew that of everyone at this fucking party, _she’s_ the most dangerous, and the one that had the most potential to hurt someone, including you!”

“So you _what,_ threw yourself on a silver platter for her?!” he demanded incredulously.

Dick didn’t answer, glaring viciously at the wall behind Jason.

He could feel his frustration building at the silence, the residual terror that had shot through him as soon as his eyes had landed on Dick’s face still burning inside him. 

Dick _knew_ what he was doing. He _knew_ what she’d wanted from him, had played right into her hands, looking like he wanted to die all the while. And he _still_ didn’t see what was wrong with that picture?

“You _self-destructive asshole!”_ Jason raged, fists clenched. “What were you _thinking?”_ he demanded harshly. “What if she wanted to go further than a little necking in the closet, huh? Were you willing to _sleep_ with her just to distract her from _maybe_ talking to one of us? Of all the stupid, reckless things you could’ve done, what if-”

“What if _what,_ Jason?” Dick shouted, finally looking at him again, and Jason had never seen so much anger and loathing in the other man’s face. So much pain. “I’ve already seen and heard and _felt_ it all! There’s _nothing_ she or anyone else can do to me that I haven’t already been through! And if I have to go through all of that again to make sure that none of _you_ ever have to, then so fucking be it! If me _throwing myself at her_ means that she doesn’t have a chance to get her claws into you, or Damian, or fucking _anyone else,_ then that’s a price I’m willing to pay!”

Jason’s eyes were wide by the end of Dick’s tirade, something in his chest clenching tight in fear. “What do you mean you’ve already been through it all?” he whispered hoarsely. “What have you been through?”

Dick flinched back, looking like he was already berating himself, and Jason could see his mind working, trying to come up with an excuse.

“How many times have you done something like this?” Jason couldn’t hide the horror in his voice, and his mind just kept flashing back to the wide eyed terror on Dick’s face.

 _“No,_ I-” Dick stuttered urgently. “I haven’t- I didn’t-” He groaned, turning away again, looking agitated. “That’s not what I _meant.”_

“Then what _did_ you mean?” Jason pressed, moving closer. He reached out, putting a hand on Dick’s shoulder and walking around to face him. His shirt was still half undone and his face was hidden in shadows.

“I- It- It doesn’t _matter,”_ Dick insisted, pulling away from Jason’s hand.

“Don’t tell me it doesn’t matter, Dick!” he yelled, voice cracking. Dick flinched again, but Jason wasn’t done. “I just had to walk in and see my brother on the verge of having a breakdown with someone going to town on him, _completely_ ignoring that little fact, don’t fucking _tell me_ that’s _fine!”_

Dick didn’t deserve to be screamed at, he _knew that,_ and _God,_ he looked like Jason had just punched him in the gut, but Jason was trembling with the fear and horror and adrenaline wreaking havoc through his body and he _couldn’t_ just ignore this. He couldn’t let Dick push him away again.

“Dick,” he pleaded, choking on the word. “What _happened?”_

“I’m sorry,” Dick whispered, backing up until he was braced against the table. He sat down heavily, lowering his head until his hair, so perfectly styled just a couple hours ago, hung over his eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to- You shouldn’t have had to see that, I never wanted you to…”

Dick knew things about his life before Bruce, the kind of shit he’d had to see. It was something Jason would never talk about now, and certainly not with any of their younger siblings, but there was a time when Jason _was_ the younger sibling. When he’d occasionally stay at the Tower, too tired after a team up to head back to Gotham. When he’d wake up screaming and sobbing, Dick leaning over him in a panic with a fresh mark on his jaw from Jason’s flailing fists that, come morning, they both knew would blossom into a bruise. When Dick would bring him hot chocolate and sit there, holding him until Jason had cried himself out.

Dick knew things about him that he’d never had the courage or desire to tell anyone else. Bruce knew, because Bruce always knew, made it his _job_ to know, both as Jason’s guardian and as Batman. He’d woken up one morning to find a newspaper on the kitchen table, headline stating that several sex traffickers who dealt primarily in homeless kids had been apprehended by the Dark Knight, along with several millionaires they’d done business with. But they’d never talked about it.

He’d told Dick about it, that same morning he’d run to the Tower after being borderline outed to Bruce. He’d told him exactly why he was so afraid of Bruce finding out he was into men. He was scared Bruce would blame him, take it as a sign that Jason had actually _wanted_ what he’d been put through. Or worse, he’d take it as permission to do whatever he wanted to him, the same way some of those men had. Jason had known that Bruce was rich enough _and_ smart enough to get away with it if he really wanted to.

When Jason had come back to life, when he was killing every rapist and pimp and trafficker he could get his goddamn hands on, Dick had never condemned him for it, not really. He’d wanted Jason to stop, fought him every time they crossed paths, but he’d understood.

Jason was beginning to get a taste of exactly how much Dick understood.

“You never should have had to go through it in the first place,” Jason countered softly. Dick just curled in on himself more.

“It’s not the same,” he protested. “It’s nothing like what you went through.”

“That doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt you.”

Dick’s shoulders shook, and he couldn’t hear it, Dick made no sound, but Jason knew he was crying.

“Can I touch you?” he checked.

“You shouldn’t,” Dick whispered shakily. “I’m poison, Jay. I just ruin everything I touch.”

Jason moved slowly, giving his brother time to stop him, but when he gently pulled him into his arms, Dick leaned into it.

“You’re not poison,” he assured the man firmly. “You’re my brother.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into the curve of Jason’s neck, dampening the fabric of his suit.

The memory of Tim in this exact position barely a week ago, of himself in Bruce’s arms just a few days later, ran through his mind. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” he repeated, burying his face in Dick’s hair and closing his eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

A week later found Jason in his apartment, sprawled on the couch. A knock on the door interrupted the sound of rain pattering slowly against the window and drew his attention away from the book he held open.

He set the book down and scooped the .45 off the table in a practiced move before walking over to the door, looking through the peephole. So far no reporters, and more importantly no one with a grudge against the Red Hood, had found this place, but he wouldn’t put it past any of them.

Dick stood in the hallway, hands in the pockets of his jacket. His brow furrowed in confusion and he opened the door. He stood back to let Dick enter, clicking the safety back on as Dick brushed lightly past him.

“Thought you were back in Bludhaven?” he asked while Dick shrugged off his jacket, damp from the drizzling rain that hadn’t let up at all over the past few days.

The Monday after the gala, Bruce had deemed it long enough for them to get back to their normal lives, and like the flock of assholes birds they all were deep down, they’d flown the coop as fast as they could. He and Tim had gone back to their apartments in the city, though Tim had moved at some point during those two weeks, and Dick had gone back to ‘Haven. 

As far as he knew, Cass was still at the Manor, and Stephanie was ecstatic that she was finally allowed to visit again, especially since Cass was sticking around town for a while.

He hadn’t been back yet, but Duke would occasionally text him pictures of Damian doing weird shit with his animals, so he felt like he was still in the loop.

Dick folded his jacket over the back of a bar stool. “Thought I’d drop by, see how you were doing,” he explained over his shoulder, moving to the couch. Jason followed his lead, carefully setting his gun down on the table. Dick raised an eyebrow at him, seeming amused.

“Expecting company?” he teased.

Jason groaned dramatically, throwing himself down in his chair. “Not yet,” he muttered darkly, “but it’s only a matter of time. Y’know, this is exactly why I didn’t want to come back. I _hate_ having to look over my shoulder every time I go grocery shopping.”

Dick snorted. “You looked over your shoulder anyways,” he pointed out. “And you didn’t want to come back because you didn’t want to pay taxes and you like using the ‘legally dead’ excuse to get out of things.”

“How dare you,” Jason said blandly. “I’ve paid tax on every chili dog I’ve ever eaten, I’ll have you know. And besides, it’s not like I have a job or income to be taxed anyways, and when I _did,_ I paid it the same as you schmucks. Check my falsified tax history if you don’t believe me.”

Dick laughed outright at that, leaning back into the cushions. “I notice you’re not objecting to the rest of my statement.”

“Shut up, Dickface,” he stated without any actual heat.

Dick smiled warmly at him, and it felt good. It had been so long since the two of them had been in the same room and just… existed. There was always some crisis to hold their attention, or else they would both choke on the weight of their history. Even last Friday, he’d had no idea where he stood with Dick, hadn’t known what to do or how to really help.

He’d ended up just holding Dick for quite a while, eventually texting Bruce to let him know that they needed to leave. By the time Bruce had gathered the others, asking where he was and if he’d seen Dick, Dick had pulled himself together enough to leave the room, looking a little worse for wear, but otherwise fine.

Jason had given the excuse that he’d seen someone who had him a little rattled, and that Dick had found him. He was sure everyone had seen the redness in Dick’s eyes, but no one said anything about it and they’d been on their way.

He and Dick hadn’t talked about it that weekend, both vividly aware of the snooping little pests that were their siblings. Jason had taken a step back, letting the others have their fill of the man. They kept him distracted and present, which Jason felt he needed more than anything else at that point.

The fact that Dick was here now, though, without any prompting that he knew of, hopefully meant that Dick was ready to talk.

“I also wanted to say thanks,” Dick said, voice losing some of its humor and gaze sliding from Jason to the table. “At the gala… you didn’t have to cover for me at your own expense.”

Jason shrugged. “‘S no skin off my back. I’m pretty sure they all just assumed I needed to get out before my fist introduced itself to someone’s face.” 

He wasn’t sure how true that statement was. He was almost certain they all knew something more had happened that night, but the excuse also wasn’t that far from the truth either. “And you looked like you could use the assist,” he added, a little quieter.

Dick shifted in his seat. “Yeah,” he acknowledged, just as quiet. “Probably.”

Jason waited, wanting to let him dictate the terms of the conversation, but when several minutes passed by in awkward silence, Jason knew that wasn’t going to happen. If he wanted to talk to Dick, he’d have to be the one to get the ball rolling.

He inhaled and blew out a breath, causing Dick to twitch. “Dick…” 

“Jason, I- I can’t.” Dick’s face crumpled in grief. “I know you have questions, but I just- You’re my _little brother,_ I shouldn’t be putting my shit on you. You’ve got more than enough to deal with already.”

“I want to help _because_ I’m your little brother,” he insisted, leaning forward. “Believe me, I know you’re not perfect or infallible. I know you struggle just as much as the rest of us, even if it _did_ take dying to be able to see that.”

Dick choked out a laugh. “Thanks, Jay.”

“Any time,” he responded softly. “But seriously. I know how fucked up life can get. You’ve been there for me plenty of times. Let me return the favor.”

Dick was looking back at him, and Jason could see the immense sadness in his gaze, the guilt he was wrestling with. “You don’t have to handle this alone,” Jason urged, and he could see Dick give in, hanging his head and looking away again.

“What do you want to know?” he whispered, sounding subdued.

Where to even begin? “What were you thinking?” he finally asked, as kindly as he could. He kept any and all judgement out of his voice.

Dick’s eyes closed. “You know what she’s like.”

Jason nodded. He knew damn well, but that didn’t explain anything.

Dick sighed. “I didn’t want anyone else to have to deal with her. I’d been pulling people into conversations all night, trying to keep them away from you guys.” That probably explained why he and Tim hadn’t had as much trouble as he’d been expecting. “And I tried to do the same with her,” Dick continued, "because I saw her eyeing Bruce, and Damian was right there. But I knew I was going to lose her if I didn’t go along with what she wanted. She was looking for an in to the family, and if I didn’t give her one, she’d look elsewhere. So I let her pull me away.”

“Did you want to sleep with her?” Jason asked carefully, already positive he knew the answer but needing to hear it anyway.

“No,” Dick breathed. “God no.”

“Then why not just follow her back to Bruce? Block her there and keep the conversation moving?” _Why put yourself through that?_

“Because it was easier to just go along with it,” Dick admitted wearily.

He didn’t say anything else, and Jason felt the pit in his stomach return at the thought, at everything Dick wasn’t saying. “Have you done this before?” 

“Not… not exactly.” Jason watched Dick swallow, his gaze turning toward the window. “I’ve never…” His eyes flicked toward Jason before looking away just as quickly.

“You’ve never pimped yourself out?” Jason guessed, knowing that Dick wouldn’t say the words with Jason here.

He shook his head. “Not like that, not… I’ve never slept with someone as a distaction.”

Something loosened in Jason’s chest at the admittance, something that had been keeping him up at night all week. “But you’ve done other things?” he coaxed.

Dick’s hands came together in his lap, fingers grabbing at each other anxiously. “You remember how I told you that when Bruce took me in, they treated me like a charity case?” 

Jason nodded. 

“They eased up on that as I got older. By the time I hit high school, I’d also hit puberty.” Dick smiled sardonically. “I took after my mom. I was still short as hell, but I’d… I don’t know, I guess I’d filled out a little. I skipped right past the awkward gangly phase, and with Robin, I was in pretty good shape.”

Jason’s eyes widened. _“Jesus._ You were a _kid,”_ he protested, horrified.

“I know,” Dick whispered. “But instead of the circus brat, suddenly I was _‘Brucie’s little man,’”_ he said, resentment dripping from the words. “They’d make a point to tell me how good I looked in my suit, how much I’d grown… By the time Bruce fired me and I could finally get away from them, they’d moved from patting my head to…” His gaze flicked to Jason’s as he cut himself off. “Other places,” he finished, looking away.

Jason’s jaw ached from how tightly his teeth were clenched. Those fucking _bastards._

“Did you tell Bruce?” he forced himself to ask. There was no way the man would’ve let it continue for years if he’d known, Jason _had_ to believe that.

Dick was already shaking his head. “I didn’t… I didn’t want to make a big deal of it. Cause a problem. So I just… leaned into it, I guess.”

“Why?” he pressed. “Why would you just… let it happen?”

Dick’s face tensed and he wouldn’t meet Jason’s gaze.

“Dick, come on,” he implored. “You know what they were doing wasn’t right. Why the hell didn’t you get Bruce in on it? He would’ve helped.”

“I didn’t want to be a problem,” Dick repeated.

Jason scoffed, though not unkindly. “I’m pretty sure you’re the _least_ problematic person in this family-” Jason tried to assure him, but Dick cut him off sharply.

“Except _this family_ didn’t _exist_ back then, Jason!” His eyes were shining and he turned away again, continuing in a harsh tone. “Bruce didn’t adopt me until I was 21, and he didn’t exactly have any other kids at the time to give me hope that he _actually_ wanted me around after I was old enough to not die on my own. I didn’t want to give him any reason to want me gone. He was all I had, him and Alfred, and I couldn’t lose them just because I couldn’t handle a little attention.”

“A bunch of entitled assholes sexually harassing a _child_ isn’t just ‘a little attention,’” Jason hissed furiously. He closed his eyes briefly and sighed, forcing himself to sound less harsh. “And I know it doesn’t change anything to say it now,” he continued, tone even, “but Bruce loves you. I may have been adopted first, but you were his kid long before I was.”

“It’s easy to say _now,”_ Dick retorted, “but you didn’t know him then. When I was younger, he was so much more open. He’d hug me when I woke up from nightmares, he’d make time to spend with me and Alfred, no work or anything to distract him. But the older I got, the more he pulled away. By the time I was in high school, I was afraid he’d realized what a mistake it was to take me in. I was afraid that if I said something, it’d be the thing that finally made him wash his hands of me.”

Dick pulled his leg up, curling in on himself a little and Jason didn’t have the heart to tell him off for putting his shoes on the couch. “I don’t… I don’t blame him,” Dick said after a moment. “He was your age when he took me in, and it was kind of a spur of the moment decision, I think. He really wasn’t in the right place to raise a kid. He was trying to balance that with running a company and being a vigilante, and he was… he was just too young. He didn’t know what he was doing. It’s a _miracle_ that we both survived, and that miracle’s name is Alfred,” he snorted, before the humor left his face. “The older he got, the more he realized what he was doing wrong, I think, and the harder it was for him to go back to the way it was before.”

“Speaking from experience?” Jason prompted gently.

Dick rested his chin on his knee. “I was the same age he’d been when Bruce d- was gone. And Damian wasn’t that much older than I’d been.” He finally looked up, meeting Jason’s gaze. “Jay, I was _terrified._ I had no idea what I was doing with anything, and I had a lot more experience than Bruce did. Looking up at him back then, I thought he was such an adult, that _of course_ he knew what he was doing, but being in those same shoes? Bruce was barely keeping his head above water.”

“It’s understandable, but it doesn’t mean he didn’t hurt you,” Jason replied, “that he didn’t mess you up. You never should’ve had to doubt whether or not he even _cared_ about you.”

Dick flinched. “I know. And I know better now, I get it and I’ve worked past that with him. But you asked why I didn’t tell him.” Dick shrugged. “That’s why.”

Jason let his head fall forward, running his hands over his face. “Gotcha,” he mumbled. 

Dick shifted uncomfortably. “Look, Jason, I appreciate the concern, but I think this was a bad idea-” he tried.

“You stand up and try to brush me off again, I’ll shoot your foot,” he glared, watching Dick freeze and sink back into the couch.

“I don’t care how bad of an idea you think this is, you need to talk to _someone_ and it might as well be me.” He spread his hands. “I already know half of it, and it’s not like you’re gonna shatter my hero worship of anyone,” he pointed out. “I already knew Bruce is an emotionally stunted asshole.”

Dick frowned lightly, but didn’t rebuke him, which Jason appreciated. He may have mended a majority of his relationship with their father, and he did genuinely love him and appreciate how far he’d come for them, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t call him out of his laundry list of bullshit.

“Fine,” Dick relented, looking nervous.

“Alright,” Jason agreed. He briefly chewed the inside of his lip before moving on. “Dick…” he started, watching him closely. “I have to ask. Why did you look so scared?”

It had featured prominently in his nightmares the past few nights, not that he’d let Dick know. He hoped to a God he didn’t believe in that it had just been fear at being caught, and a general desire to not be there in the first place, but life had never really cared about his hopes.

Dick looked down again. “Please don’t ask me that.”

“Why not?”

“Because if you ask me, I’ll tell you, and I-” he broke off, turning his head away. 

Jason leaned forward again. “Nothing you can say to me will change the way I see you,” he promised. “You’re my brother. You always will be.”

“I was…” Dick seemed to be struggling to get the words out, but Jason waited patiently, not moving for fear that it would send the other running. “I was having a flashback,” he mumbled, posture tense. “That’s why I was…” He trailed off.

Jason carefully shoved his reaction down, bit back the terror. “Of?”

_Please._

“What… What do you know about Blockbuster?” Dick asked hesitantly.

Jason was thrown by the sudden switch, but did little more than blink. “He was the guy hunting you in Bludhaven last year, wasn’t he?” Jason remembered hearing about him as Red Hood, the man gloating about how he had the city’s vigilante running frantic circles. He’d been curious enough that he’d checked out the situation later. 

Haley’s Circus burned down. Dick’s apartment blown to hell with multiple casualties. Nightwing attempting to turn himself in for the man’s murder, though that had been hushed by someone on the inside and it’d taken a lot of work to find any evidence of it. 

Evidence that he’d promptly stolen, and later burned.

“And you know who Tarantula is? Was,” Dick corrected a moment later with a frown.

That one sobered him a little more. He remembered how Barbara had been after their breakup. She was professional to a fault, but he’d caught mutters here and there, enough to piece together the broader strokes of the picture.

“You were trying to train her. She… was part of the reason for your break-up with Babs,” he replied hesitantly.

Dick’s only reply was to close his eyes, looking pained. “Yeah.”

“What about ‘em?” he prompted.

“I was… in a bad place, last year. Everything was getting to me, and it was all burning down around me, literally. So when Cat pulled a gun on him… I just stood back. And afterward, I… I think I was in shock, or dissociating. The next thing I knew, I was on the roof and she was pushing me down, the same way Cara did at the gala, and it… It threw me back and I felt like I couldn’t breath,” he admitted.

“She…” He couldn’t finish the sentence, feeling sick.

“Yeah,” Dick said again, gaze locked on the floor.

“Does anyone know?” he begged, knowing it was in vain even before Dick shook his head.

He swallowed painfully. “Is _that_ why you and Babs…?”

“No,” Dick denied immediately. “We’d already broken up at that point. She doesn’t… she has no idea.”

Jason exhaled harshly. “Why haven’t you told her? If she thought you were cheating on her, why didn’t you tell her that she was wrong, that Cat hurt you more than she hurt her? She wouldn’t have been anywhere _near_ as angry with you if she knew what really happened.”

“Because it’s in the past,” Dick argued, “and I don’t… I don’t want her to feel _guilty_ about it. It wasn’t going to work between us anyways, we both know that now, and we’re… we’re in a good place. I don’t want to bring it all back up again.”

“Dick, she hurt you,” Jason protested.

“She did,” Dick agreed sadly, “but telling her now won’t change anything that happened. And I… I don’t _want_ to be a victim Jason. I _know_ you understand that.”

Damn him. How _dare_ he pull that card on him. 

But he was right. Jason _did_ understand. And he had the feeling that was the only reason Dick was willing to have this conversation at all.

“Everyone’s been pretty concerned about you,” he said instead. “Cass and the Demon both asked me to talk to you.”

Dick had a faint smile, but lost it quickly. “Thank you for not letting them push.”

Jason shrugged. “Damian’s a little young to be anyone’s therapist, and Cass… for all that she cares, she’s not the best at maneuvering conversations. Which, unfortunately, is something you excel at.”

The wry comment didn’t get a reaction out of Dick like he’d hoped it might. Instead, he just stared down, looking like he was debating something.

“Dick?” he called, brow furrowed.

“Did you know Cass threw me out of a window once when Barbara and I were arguing? She thought I’d hurt her, and didn’t take it well.” Something that was _almost_ a smile flitted across his features. “I wonder what she would’ve done if Babs had told her about Catalina.”

Jason stared at Dick, feeling a dull pain and rage at the resigned tone his older brother spoke in.

“She would’ve been on your side in this,” he insisted.

Dick smiled sadly. “I wish I could be as sure as you.”

Jason looked away for a moment, blinking furiously. When his vision cleared again, he turned back. “Is that why you were so distant with her the last few weeks?”

“I haven’t seen her much this last year,” Dick admitted. “It… it made it easier. I stayed away after Babs, and then when Bruce…” He shook his head. “She took off, grieving in her own way. I was almost thankful. Being around her so much the past few weeks… I was terrified she’d see right through me every time I came near her.”

“Would that have been such a bad thing?” Jason couldn’t help but ask, only for Dick to glare at him. Jason put his hands up in surrender. “Okay, I can get why you didn’t want to tell anyone in the family, believe me. But what about your friends? What about the Titans? Fucking _Clark?”_

Dick was the most social person Jason had ever met and he could count the number of heroes he knew of that _didn’t_ like him on one hand. Why did it seem like he’d been so alone these last few years?

“You want me to look Superman in the eye and tell him I let someone murder a man in front of me and then rape me?” Dick asked bluntly, and now it was Jason’s turn to flinch.

“You didn’t _let_ her do anything,” he argued, an edge in his voice.

“I know,” Dick replied, voice softer again. 

“But… point taken, I guess,” Jason added begrudgingly. 

“And the Titans…” Dick blew out a breath, looking suddenly tired as he leaned back limply into the couch’s embrace. “I haven’t seen Garth in years, Roy hasn’t been talking to me for a while now, Wally is busy with his own life and his own neverending problems, and I’m _not_ adding onto that, Donna's already been through so much for me, I _won't_ put her through more, and Kori… well. I don’t tell her about my… relationship problems.” 

“I know you were _closest_ with them, but wasn’t there anyone else? There have to be dozens of the old Titans you could’ve talked to,” Jason suggested. Of all the people in their family, he never thought it would be Dick that had a lack of people to turn to.

Dick tensed again, taking in a careful breath. “Not for this,” he said softly. “It… wouldn’t have gone over well.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

There was a slight tremble in Dick’s otherwise steady voice. “It means the last time someone took advantage of me, they blamed me for it and called me a slut. It’s not an experience I’m eager to repeat.”

Jason forgot to breathe, wide eyes locked his older brother’s form.

The Golden Boy.

The Original Sidekick.

The one they all looked up to.

The one man in the entire community that gave Superman a run for his money when it came to trustworthiness and leadership skills.

And they had the goddamn _audacity_ to pull something like this on him?

“What,” he demanded flatly.

“There was a shapeshifter,” Dick shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “She kidnapped Kori, took her form. When we found out, they all said I should have known, that I was a _detective,”_ he spit out. “No one bothered to ask how _I_ felt about finding out that someone had hurt my girlfriend and taken her place just to fuck with me.”

“They _blamed_ you?” Jason repeated incredulously. “What the _fuck,_ when was this?” God, if he ever saw a single one of them-

He made a mental note to check the Titans roster once Dick was gone, to try and narrow down who would’ve been there at the time.

Dick’s eyes flicked to him again before dropping. “A little less than a year after you died,” he stated quietly.

“A year? Dick, were you still _seventeen?”_

“Honestly I think that’s why it was so easy for Mirage to pull it off,” Dick said, pulling both feet up in front of him, the same position Jason had found him in back at the Manor. “I’d… I’d never been with anyone before Kori, not like that. And she’s… she definitely took charge in the relationship. I knew something was off, but I… I didn’t think it was _that,”_ he admitted into his knees.

Jason couldn’t take it. He moved onto the couch and sat down next to Dick, pulling him into his side. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “You didn’t deserve that. Any of it.”

Dick just sighed. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you,” he said softly.

“This isn’t pity, Dickhead,” he threw back, tightening his grip.

“I know,” Dick replied sadly. Jason pulled away enough to see his face, upset and drawn in confusion. “Jason, I… for the most part, I’ve moved past all this. All this did was drag it back up and make us both feel worse. I don’t… I don’t want to be a burden to you, to _any_ of you.”

“I’m not listening to this shit again,” he stated, leaning back. He shoved and tugged Dick around until he was facing Jason directly, both of them sideways on the couch. He held onto Dick’s wrists, the same grip Dick had always used to catch him when he was falling. “You’re _not_ a burden, got it? Just because you’re older, doesn’t mean you have to suffer in fucking silence. I get not telling Damian, even Duke. But the rest of us? We’re big boys and girls. _Yes,_ knowing that you’re hurting is going to hurt us, that’s how it fucking works. But you know what hurts more?” he demanded, squeezing Dick’s wrists lightly. “Seeing someone you care about suffering, and not being able to do a damn thing about it.”

“And I don’t care how long it’s been or how connected to your emotions you are, you’re still _human,”_ he emphasized. “You need to talk about this shit. By burying it, you’re just delaying the time until it blows up in your face, trust me. What if you were fighting someone and it triggered a flashback like it did with Metzi? You could _die_ because you froze up, or someone else could die, and I know what that would do to you.”

Dick was still holding his gaze, but his eyes had gotten wetter and wetter.

“Dick,” he implored. “I care about you, alright? And I know I shove my foot in my mouth more often than not, and I know it’s not always easy between us… but you’re my brother, and I don’t want you to-” he had to pause for a moment, blinking back the wetness in his own eyes. “You’re not alone,” he said instead. “You know you’re not alone.”

A tear slid down Dick’s face and he felt Dick’s hand tug weakly up, as if he wanted to wipe the tear away, but Jason used the grip to instead pull Dick into a hug. As he wound his arms around Dick’s neck, his arms resting reassuringly on his shoulders, he felt Dick’s arms wrap around his chest just as fiercely.

“Okay,” Dick mumbled.

“Okay,” Jason echoed back.

He was startled when Dick suddenly started shaking in his arms, although Jason was almost positive it was from repressed laughter.

“What?” he asked.

Dick didn’t answer, instead shaking his head lightly and hugging Jason tighter to him.

“What?” he demanded again, pulling back a bit to look.

That was definitely laughter in Dick’s shaky smile, muted by the fact that he’d pressed his lips together firmly. He swallowed and sniffed a little, a short huff of laughter escaping. Dick met his gaze, eyes shining with both tears and mirth.

“Maybe okay will be our always,” he joked.

Jason shoved him back against the arm of the couch and stood up.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Dick protested, laughing and using the sleeve of his shirt to wipe away the moisture on his cheeks.

“I can’t believe this,” Jason complained, moving toward his kitchen. “I bear my heart to you for the first time in my second _life_ and you quote shitty pop culture to me.” He opened the fridge, pulling out a few ingredients and giving Dick time to pull himself back together.

If he also used the opportunity to wipe at his own eyes, then that was just a happy coincidence.

“C’mon, Jay,” Dick protested as his laughter petered out. “It’s from a book, I thought that would get me brownie points.”

“Not with _that_ book you’re not,” he stated firmly, before pausing and straightening up, suddenly reminded of something. “And that’s another thing,” he muttered, eyes narrowing.

“What?” Dick asked calmly, still sounding amused.

Jason turned around, fixing his glare on him.

 _“The Outsiders?”_ he demanded. “Seriously?”

Dick threw his hands up. “Hey, I didn’t make the assignment,” he objected.

“No, but you _did_ point Damian directly at me, knowing full well what I think about that fucking travesty of a novel.”

Dick’s eyebrows raised. “Well I had to get him off my back somehow. And you _are_ phenomenal at English, Little Wing.”

 _“Lo que sea,”_ Jason scoffed, although he couldn’t deny the small thrill of petty pride he felt at Dick’s statement. It was a private source of joy that he was almost undoubtedly better versed in English and literature than most of the rich kids he’d gone to school with _and_ their shitty upper class parents.

_Go back to your country, my ass._

Although, from the knowing tone Dick had spoken in, he’d guess his feelings on the subject weren’t quite as private as he’d thought they were.

Dick stood up and walked over quietly to lean over the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. Jason shifted a little, grabbing the bread out of the cupboard.

“What’re you making?” Dick asked.

“For _your_ ass?” He snorted. “Nothing, now.”

“Jay,” Dick chided him, rolling his eyes. 

“Fine, fine,” he relented, peeking over his shoulder to shoot Dick a sly grin. “Chicken and jalapeno sandwiches.”

He watched Dick’s face soften a little, saw the gratitude in his eyes before he turned back around. 

He’d stocked up on the necessary ingredients the second he’d left the Manor, ready to make one of Dick’s favorite meals whenever the man decided to show up.

Jason was just glad that Dick had finally come around.

Otherwise he’d have had to throw the loaf out, or use the whole thing himself, because Christ knew he was _not_ wasting that much food.


	7. Epilogue

“The Neon Knights division of Wayne Enterprises is proud to announce our newest outreach program,” Tim began, the crowd of reporters gathered in front of him taking frantic notes. “The Catherine Foundation will be dedicated to supporting Gotham’s at-risk minority youth, including our substantial Latinx, African-American, and LGBTQ populations. We hope that with our success here, we can eventually expand the program to a national level.”

Tim stopped, waiting out the round of applause. Jason clapped along with them, the annoyance that was being forced into this stupid suit completely worth the look of content joy on Tim’s face as he stood before the masses. 

_ This _ was why he hadn’t turned it all back over to Bruce, Jason had learned. Tim was at his happiest when he was able to truly work with the charities. Not the funding of vigilante equipment, or the rehabilitation of the villains they all knew would never change (though there was still immense joy for everyone when one of them  _ did _ turn their life around), but the actual charities that Thomas and Martha Wayne had been so passionate about.

He stayed on because he just wanted to  _ help. _

And fuck if that wasn’t the core of who Timothy Drake was.

He’d approached Jason a month after the whole debacle that was his return from the dead, a hesitance in his gait as Jason sat down with him. He’d apparently been wanting to do something like this for a while now, but had pushed it off, telling himself that he was already busy enough, that he didn’t need another thing on his plate. But Tim had admitted to him that he was just afraid, that he hadn’t been ready to make the bigger public step that he’d never be able to take back.

“I’m not ready for the whole world to know,” he’d said, steam from the cup of tea in his hands lightly obscuring his face. “But I  _ want _ to do this. And I want your help with it. You know what they need, what they’ll accept, more than anyone, and without you, I wouldn’t even be considering this right now.” There had been a quiet confidence and determination in his tone, something Jason hadn’t known he’d miss until it had vanished during those few weeks they were all stuck together.

And what else could Jason have said to that but yes?

He hated the cameras roving over him, but he wouldn’t have missed this for the world. He stood tall and caught the way eyes wandered away from Tim toward the rest of them. Toward Bruce and his collection of decidedly  _ not  _ white kids. Toward him and Dick and Cass and Duke and Damian, and he could almost hear what some of the people watching were thinking. But he ignored them.

None of them mattered, and their shitty opinions weren’t worth the time it would take to roll his eyes.

Tim finished up his speech, stepping down to let Tam wrap up. He stood back with them and Jason could see Bruce rest his hand on Tim’s shoulder out of the corner of his eye.

When Tam finished, they all walked into the brand new building behind them. They were throwing a fundraiser in addition to the announcement, drawing in all the upper class pocketbooks that wanted some decent publicity.

Which. 

Jason definitely hadn’t looked forward to it. 

But it was the least he could do, both for Tim and all the kids this would help.

He sipped at his punch a few minutes later, hiding a smile as he watched someone tap on Dick’s shoulder. He could see Dick tense minutely as he threw on a fake smile and whirled around. That smile immediately turned genuine as he was met with the sight of Wally and Linda grinning at him, Wally’s arm around his wife’s shoulders. Dick laughed lightly as they both hugged him in turn. He could make out Linda’s smile turning sly as she tilted her head, lifting up the pen and notepad she held in her hand. Dick laughed again, following her over to a more private corner for an “interview” while Wally jogged over to the table beside him. 

The redhead predictably stocked up on the finger foods, and Jason once more lifted his glass.

“He likes the crab ones,” he muttered into his glass before drinking again.

Wally grinned at him. “Don’t I know it. A real Richie Rich, that one is.”

Jason scoffed and Wally bumped his shoulder lightly as he slid past. “Thanks for the call,” he said under his breath, and then he was gone, striding across the room.

Wally pointedly didn’t look at Clark as he passed by. The man was standing a little awkwardly next to Lois and Conner near the wall. Conner looked even more uncomfortable in his suit than Jason felt, but his eyes were locked comfortably on Tim, who answered each of Lois’s questions, Bruce at his side.

Tim Drake and Conner Kent had met once or twice before, Clark bringing him with when there was a possible threat that required both of them, and Jason could tell that it put Tim at ease to have the other boy there with him.

He absently wondered if the older adults knew about the extent of the two’s relationship.

Kate and Cass hovered near the group, both with small smiles on their faces as they chatted, decked out in artfully tailored suits.

“Todd,” a voice called, drawing his attention down. “Would you care to assist me in rescuing Thomas?” he asked, eyes shifting toward the other end of the room. Jason followed his gaze, seeing a distinctly unimpressed Duke standing in front of three men Jason vaguely recognised as being some millionaires’ sons. 

A nearby enterprising photographer would manage to snap the perfect picture of Jason’s fist colliding with the rightmost asshole’s nose a few minutes later. The image would be plastered all over the front page, along with an attached write-up from one Vicki Vale, who happened to be nearby and had unknowingly caught the whole incident on record. 

The article would detail how the man in question had been taunting the newest Wayne child with his friends, eventually slipping the n-word into the conversation, which had then prompted the newly returned Jason Todd-Wayne to act in his younger brother’s defense.

Bruce would sigh when he saw it the next day, shooting Jason a knowing look that night during patrol. He wouldn’t say anything about the behavior, and Jason would return home to a plate of Alfred’s cookies on his kitchen counter.

Jason’s reputation would be firmly on the side of “The One That  _ Will _ Hit You In the Face If You’re an Asshole” once more, to his immense pleasure.

Turns out, no one would bat an eye over the fact that Bruce Wayne’s inner city kid knew how to throw a punch.

But for now, Jason just smirked down at Damian, reading the annoyance and protectiveness in the kid’s stance. He knocked back the rest of his punch in a single gulp, Damian cringing at the action just enough for Jason to make out. 

“I’d love to.”

**Author's Note:**

> look i genuinely didn’t mean to write a “the public finds out that jason is actually alive” story… or a “tim coming out” story… or any of the other seven tropes i shoved into this…… this honestly just started as me wanting to write about galas and the shit these kids have to put up with from the media (and specifically the facade that dick has had to put up for so long), but i couldn’t think of an actual reason why all of them would be at events like that, and then jason stepped in, so i threw in a few thousands words of world building, sibling relationships, and side plots to finally get to where i wanted to go from the beginning  
> it literally takes like,,, 25k words before i even _start_ to dig into dick’s problems in a story that i specifically started because i wanted to write about him  
> so y’know. a typical fic from me  
> thanks for reading lmao ♡♡♡ hope you enjoyed!


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